


R E V E N A N T

by Arba710



Series: remnants af a forgotten era [3]
Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Child Loss, Drama, F/F, F/M, Hate Sex, Implied Relationships, Infidelity, Loss, M/M, Promiscuity, Reincarnation, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-08-25 00:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16650682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arba710/pseuds/Arba710
Summary: →  With Solomon's downfall and Al Thamen's establishment she finally found vengeance alongside Arba and the other remaining magicians who used to call themselves the Resistance. However, losing her lover in this tragic battle waged against the young king she once considered her son meant suffering a millennium of grief, hurt and loneliness.A new Singularity's arrival finally brought a change to the horribly prolonged existence she called life. Sinbad, High King of the Seven Seas, whose golden eyes captured her entire being from the very start, might just be the one person to save her.





	1. 000

**.**

**.**

**.**

❛   _Like a revenant she haunts his flesh, hungry; starving for the touch of his calloused fingertips running gently down her back to trace every vertebra underneath layers of moonlit skin. Lips stained claret wander from soft white mounts over plains of taunt muscle south into the valley hidden beneath her folds. His name spills from her lips, rolling off her wicked tongue like a prayer – screaming the name of a foreign god. Surrender to passion – his touch leaves her no choice; she succumbs, basking in the sense of déjà vu of another king's sun kissed skin on hers. Depravity; conjoining them in the carnal act as he hits her core in fluent rhythm, drowning out, exorcising every ghostly remnant of him, whose poisoned love has caressed her own demons so long ago._    ❜


	2. 001

The world was on hold.

Loud chirping of birds drowned out every other noise in and outside her head, filling her mind and heart with a strangely pleasant familiar feeling she thought she might never feel again. Running wild, the rukh – a burst of golden bright light – swirled and danced, flowing gently yet unbridled in never ending currents before her very eyes.

A weak smile graced vinaceous lips as she raised her head to the blackened night sky; crimson eyes narrowing against the rukh’s strong golden gleam.

It was the birth of a new singularity, who one day would grasp destiny, cradling it in the palm of his hands to remake and renew this rotten world designed by a false king, too arrogant and blind-sighted to realize where he went wrong.

“You seem unusually excited. It’s been a while since I last saw your face lighting up like this.” Gyokuen said with a derisive smirk on her red-painted lips while casting the ravenette standing next to her a sideways glance. “It’s understandable though; a regular human being born with such quality of magoi is indeed a miracle.”

Arba or _rather_ Gyokuen was right in that regard: a human being born with such remarkable magoi was as rare as the Kou’s current emperor’s brother’s legitimate children. However, the reason why Lamia’s beautiful, yet stern features mimicked an expression of mild wonder was another the emperor’s wife was unable to understand right now but would come to fathom soon.

Arba was no fool and never had been.

This human infant’s magoi felt warm, bright and so pleasant it made Lamia’s heart flutter with a feeling of joy she thought she had long since unlearned to even recognize as such. Even though it was the absolute opposite of what _his_ magoi felt like, its signature was the same in the end – strong, intoxicating, captivating.

Unmistakably HIS.

“You do feel it too, don’t you?” the ravenette said; her voice laced with amazement Gyokuen found quite confusing and, to some extent, even irritating.

The empress clicked her tongue. “Of course I do, silly. Do I really have to remind you, that I’m a magi, too?”

Lamia shook her head, locks of black silk swaying softly with the movement. “No, of course not. But that is not what I meant, Arba.” she told the other woman, who looked quizzically at her through her daughter’s bright blue eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway. In time you’ll come to understand what I mean.”

A low chuckle escaped slightly parted lips. “You never cease to amaze me, Lamia. Honestly, you were once so wicked-tongued, sharped-witted and sassy. You’ve become so _unemotional,_ speaking concisely and never mentioning more than the necessary. I would have never dreamt I was going to say this one day, but I do miss your old you somehow.”

“Has not anyone one of us become the exact opposite of what we used to be?” Lamia asked with a noticeable trace of sarcasm in her voice. “You, me, Ithnan and even Falan – we all have changed way beyond the recognizable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, yes. You do have a point. This wicked world has rendered us nothing but shadows of our former selves. It is, indeed, sad.” Arba admitted, lowering a pair of cerulean eyes which didn’t belong to her.

The ravenette wrinkled her nose in disgust of her fellow magi’s feigned sorrowfulness. Unlike Falan and Ithnan, Arba had become something altogether different than she used to be – something despicable, vile and unfathomable cruel.

 _Disgusting_ , yet understandable if one considered the circumstances.

The rukh was still swirling around in unruly movements, chirruping, singing like ten thousand nightingales heralding the arrival of a new first class singularity. Her ruby eyes were soft, yet focused on the spectacle unraveling before her, entirely taking in its beauty.

Hope rose inside of her. It was hope of finding a new reason to still exist in this world after being here for far too long.

If Arba was the thousand-year witch, possessing the bodies of her daughters, Lamia was the thousand-year revenant, wandering this vile new world created by the usurper king named Solomon in search for what she has lost so long ago.

The birth of this new first class singularity might just be the beginning.


	3. 002

Ever since the fateful night he was born, Lamia used to wonder why Al Thamen had never been interested in making the world’s first glass singularity their possession as well. They – _especially Arba_ – were intrigued by beings holding great power, and Sinbad, Overlord of the Seven Seas, held a great amount of what they craved so much. Yet, they never even tried to get their filthy hands on him, using Sindria’s king to fulfill their purpose.

Lamia could only guess the Organization’s reason for not coming after the miracle child who long since had grown into a man, but most probably it must have been their desperate search for a new magi to manipulate and make part of their scheme to revive a god overthrown by a false king so long ago.

In the end it was her who had found their much sought-after magi in an abandoned dump somewhere in the east, born to poor scum unworthy to raise a boy loved by the rukh. Arba had always been right in that regard – a sorcerer of creation belonged with his kind, his fellow magi; not with pitiful humans who would have never been able to grasp the divinity of the child given to them.

By slaughtering the man who begot and the woman who birthed him, Lamia paved another, more glorious way for the raven-haired boy, granting him a life filled with all the riches and wonders the world would offer a being as magnificent as him.  

Not a single day had she ever regretted saving the boy from his poor origin and raising him as her own, rendering him a substitute for what she had lost or maybe never even possessed in the first place.

This, however, didn’t matter anymore – the new magi belonged to no one but her alone. Al-Thamen never had a right to claim him from the very beginning which is why Lamia had been the one to name, raise and teach the child.

_Taiki_ – the name chosen for him by his biological mother fit him well; the magi’s dark radiance was indeed dazzling, yet all ties which bound him to his poor origin had to be severed. So she named him Judar as if he was her own child, born of her own body – making him her flesh and blood by snatching the infant from his mother’s arms.

Avarice is what defined her. No matter the cost, Lamia had always taken what she considered worth possessing.

.

.

.

Judar’s body was bruised and mangled, purple contusions littering the exposed parts of moonlit skin inflicted upon him by a former magi who turned himself into a blue giant to watch over Solomon’s rotten world securely from within the walls of the sacred palace.

Driven by unnamable wrath and hatred towards the Djinn and its master, Lamia commanded the rukh, summoning bolts of black lightning to rain down on them with a wave of her staff.

In order to protect the only remainder of the king he used to love so much, the headless version of Ugo straightened himself, towering over the crowd of people at his feet to launch his last attack.

_‘Oh Ugo, you pitiful giant.’_

With a flick of her elegant hand, the ravenette sent black lightning bolts flying towards her former fellow magician to finally get rid of him for good. Ugo had dared to hurt her precious Judar and he was going to pay for it.

“Excellent work, Lady Lamia.” Ka Koubun commented on the magi’s direct hit, which left Ugo nothing but a million tiny dissolving pieces.

Burgundy lips curled into a satisfied smirk as she heard the empty vessel hit the ground with a soft clank. The six-pointed star had already vanished from the flute’s surface which caused anxiety to rise inside the boy who was a spitting image of his father.

“Ka Koubun, how is our sweet Judar?”

“I’ve already started healing him with my household vessel but I am afraid curing his injuries completely requires going back to the palace for proper treatment.”

Kougyoku nodded her head elegantly. “I see, we shall take our leave then.”

“Wait, princess.” Lamia spoke. “These people down below are most probably this monster’s allies. I think it wise to annihilate them as well.”

Kougyoku’s pale pink eyes narrowed in contemplation as she looked down upon the crowd beneath their feet. “Well in that case Entai, Engi, Enshin kill them.”

As soon as the order rolled casually off her tongue, three dungeon monsters rushed forward to do as they were told, searching suitable sparring partners for them to take down.

“How exciting.” The Kou princess chuckled lightly from behind the fabric of her kimono. “It has been a while since I last used my metal vessel. I shall join the fight.”

Just as the pinkette was about to draw the ornamented hair pin from her metal vessel, Lamia’s velvety voice stopped her. “Princess, there is no need for you to waste your energy on them. Let me handle this for you.”

The magi left the female dungeon capturer no chance to retort as she was already using gravity magic to float in Balbadd’s cool night air, targeting the small boy whose heat magic was less than pathetic for an alleged fellow sorcerer of creation.

“Why are you doing this to us? That ally of yours was attacking us for no reason – Ugo just wanted to protect me from any further harm.” The blue-haired child exclaimed, pointing his flame-engulfed staff at the beautiful woman before him.

A low chuckle escaped enticing burgundy painted lips. “Of course he did, child.” Lamia said artificially sweet, searching the boy’s blue eyes for a familiar emotion. There was no doubt about it – he was Solomon’s and Sheba’s child; the same blue hair like his father, the same pair of large, round eyes holding so much naivety and gullibility exactly like his mother’s used to.

Lamia couldn’t help but to hate the boy.

She didn’t need magic to get rid of him, though. A weapon or even her bare hands would do just fine.

“But your Djinn hurt the Kou empire’s priest quite severely, too. I don’t think this would have been necessary.” The ravenette continues as she descended, watching the boy jump off his flying carpet to meet her on battle grounds.

The heels of Lamia’s golden sandals clicked against the stone-paved ground of Balbadd’s streets. “If you possessed the power to control your Djinn, all of this would not have happened, my dear boy. You are a magi after all, are you not?” A nefarious smile graced her lips as she approached the blue-haired copy of the woman whose guts she used to hate.

With his staff still ablaze, he resumed his fighting stance – ready for whatever may come next.

Unfortunately however, he didn’t see this one coming –

Seemingly out of nowhere, Lamia materialized a sword, wielding it with expertise she was taught by Solomon’s most trusted servant back in Alma Torran. She used to be Arba’s protégé, being only second to the brunette’s skills in swordsmanship.

“ _Time to die, little magi_.”  

A strong hold on her right wrist, a familiar flow of magoi and dazzling golden eyes prevented her from cutting down her target.

“Miss, please stop this.”

Captivated, Lamia dropped the sword, locking eyes with the man whose calloused fingers wrapped around her delicate wrist like a vice.

“You …”

“My lady, am I right to assume you are a magician of the Kou Empire?” Sinbad said with kingly persuasion.

The ravenette tore away from the man’s firm grip. Her crimson eyes became large as realization finally hit her. “You … you are –

“I am Sinbad, the King of Sindria.” He introduced himself; amber eyes seductively half-lidded and focused on hers.

Regaining her composure, the magi replied coolly. “I do know who you are.”

The king brought the hand that was holding hers only seconds ago to his chest. “My lady, don’t you think it is improper for two people in our position to be fighting here?” He spoke in a voice as thick and sweet as honey.

Lamia couldn’t help the wicked smirk forming on her vinaceous lips. “Maybe that is so but that boy’s Djinn hurt the Kou’s oracle.” she said, looking into the magi’s direction with dangerously narrowed eyes.

“Aladdin, why don’t you stand down, too? It is unlike you to be blinded by rage so easily.” Sinbad told the exhausted boy, who faltered fist but obeyed the king’s words nonetheless.

Refocusing his attention back on the enticing female creature before him, Sinbad resumed his manipulative conversation. “My lady, certain circumstances have let to my presence –

“I am afraid I am not the person you should talk to. A princess of the Kou is with us; you should talk to Kougyoku Ren instead, my lord.”

Sinbad’s honey-colored eyes seemed to widen for a split second for reason’s the ravenette could not fathom. “Is that so?” he asked with a gentle smile on lips she found oddly familiar. “Then may I ask your name, my lady?”

Her mouth curled into yet another vicious smirk. “I am called _Arwa_.” She lied shamelessly, using the name she had given herself a long time ago.

The High King’s hand took hers, holding it gently this time; golden skin touching golden skin. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Arwa.” he said before planting a chaste kiss on the back of her delicate hand.


	4. 003

_Lamia’s ruby eyes, glazed over by utmost passion, are focused on his as she grinds on top, moving with the pace he prefers – slow, steady, indulgent. Ink-stained fingers dig into the flesh of her sinful hips with tender violence David shows to her only in moments of intimate togetherness when the sun has set and the moon envelops their sun-kissed skin in its cold, silvery gleam._

_The beauty of her body has him drunk on overwhelming lust anew every time, beckoning him to touch, taste, claw and bite – worship carnality, praise it with every fiber of his being. Intoxication is hard to rid once Lamia speaks his name like a prayer as sensuality takes control over her, possessing her just like Destiny possesses David, leaving her craving for all of him. Aching, she clutches onto his skin of molten gold, sharp nails leaving shapes of crimson crescents in their wake as her rhythm becomes frenzied – all composure gone; reduced to nothing._

_The words spill from her lips, unbridled –_

_“I love you, I love you, I love you.”  
_

_– but are never reciprocated._

_._

“Are you sure the boy is Solomon’s child?” Ithnan asked with raised brows, a quizzical expression on his unmasked face.

“Of course the boy is their son!” Lamia affirmed, crossing her arms over her chest as she paced the room. “He is without a doubt a magi, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Plus I would recognize his magoi’s signature anywhere. There is no denying him being Solomon’s and Sheba’s kid.” Slight disgust crept into her fine features at the recollection of the former king and queen, she and the others used to serve.

Ithnan chuckled lightly as he poured himself a glass of merlot. “After all this time you still hate both their guts, don’t you?”

“ _Don’t you_?” Lamia asked in return, casting the green-haired magician a reproachful glance as she abruptly stopped walking up and down the carpet floor of her guest chamber inside Balbadd’s palace.

“It’s been eons, Lamia.” Ithnan sighed. “I’ve forgotten a long time ago why we’re holding a grudge against Solomon and the world he created in the first place. What are we trying to accomplish? What is Al-Thamen’s goal? Questions like these keep floating in my mind for who knows how long.”

An expression of utter disbelief washed across the ravenette’s face. “Are you kidding me? You cannot honestly tell me you’ve forgotten how Solomon’s arrogance robbed us of our freedom by imposing Destiny itself upon us; how it robbed us of our power?” she exclaimed; golden jewelry jingling with every wild gesticulation of her arms and hands. “Or – , Lamia stopped; her ruby eyes narrowing dangerously, “could it be that you’ve forgiven him?”

Ithnan put down his glass of wine before he reciprocated the magi’s hostile stare. “I have neither forgotten nor forgiven how Solomon’s false decisions have cost the lives of many who are dear to us.” He said in a grave tone. “Do I really have to remind you of Setta, the lover I have lost or even Falan’s son, Tess?”

“No of course not but why –

“There is no purpose for me to hold a grudge against Solomon any longer. In fact, there is no purpose to all of Al Thamen’s agenda to me. I might as well be dead – it wouldn’t even make a difference.” The magician continued; his voice laced with defeat and bitterness. “Destroying this world by resurrecting Il Illah to change the flow of Destiny is Arba’s and maybe your goal but not mine anymore.”

Lamia let out a long exhausted sigh. “You are pathetic, dear Ithnan. Giving yourself up like this, doesn’t suit you.” she said reproachfully, finding fault in his newly found apathetic attitude before snatching the wine glass from his hand. “Get a hold of yourself!”

Humorless laughter escaped Ithnan’s lips. “Pathetic, _you_ of all people call me? Still mourning a vile lunatic’s self-inflicted death – _this is what I’d call pathetic_.”

“ _Careful_ Ithnan. You know it would take me less than a second to kill you.” Lamia hissed; her ruby eyes glistening a dangerous crimson as she bend forward, hands pressed flatly against the tabletop which separated her from her former fellow magician.

A sudden sharp knock on the door diverted her attention away from Ithnan. “Come on in, Markkio.” she called, resuming her upright posture. “This conversation is not over.” If the ravenette wanted to, she could be as terrifying as she was beautiful which, judging by Ithnan’s wide-eyed expression as he put his checker mask back on, affected even the most powerful of men.

The door opened slowly and a hideous man, dressed in Al-Thamen’s standard robes entered the room. “Lady Lamia, Sir Ithnan – what a pleasure to see you both.” he greeted them with a bright fake grin and arms wide open.

“What is the matter, Markkio? Is there something wrong?” Ithnan asked with a stifled hiss, being rather irritated by the banker’s artificially cheerful attitude.

“Oh, not at all, not at all.” He waved his hands in a soothing manner. “I heard about the Oracle being severely injured during a fight. My reason for being here is simply to inquire about the priest’s well-being, is all.”

Lamia ran her hands down the front of her revealing dress, smoothing the silk fabric carefully before she turned to the Banker with narrowed eyes. “He is currently being cured by the princess’ adviser’s household vessel which means the priest is still in bad shape and in no way able to absorb the black rukh we are about to summon. I’m afraid our plans are postponed for now.” she told the man, who was just another of Al-Thamen’s pawns. “If this is all, please leave.”

Without retort, Markkio bowed and left the room as quick as he had entered.

“You care too much about the Kou’s magi for being such a strong advocator of Arba’s agenda since he is just another tool she needs to achieve her goal.” Ithnan remarked snidely while refilling the glass Lamia had put down earlier. “Why do you care about him in the first place? I’ve never really understood you and your motives, Lamia. You’ve always grown way too attached to things until they cease to interest you. And once they bore you, you drop them like a hot stone.”

Lamia’s expression darkened. “Since when do you think you know so much about me, hn? Unfortunately however, it seems I have to remind you that you’re description fits Arba way better than me.”

Ithnan looked at her with sheer mockery in his dark green eyes. “You are in no way different from her, Lamia. At least not anymore.”

.

It was an intriguing sight to behold; – a boy, born of poverty, having seen this world’s ugliness and experienced its cruelty firsthand, turned into a king whose achievements and possession remained unequaled by any other king’s candidate there was out there.

Sinbad’s hands moved elegantly as he spoke to the crowd below, capturing their attention and hopes with every single word. Mouths ajar and eyes gleaming, the people of Balbadd’s slums kept listening attentively, believing what this radiant man offered them. The young prince beside him was no exception to that rule, being just as swayed by the high king’s suave manner and eloquent charm.

Equally mesmerized, Lamia kept listening, reveling in nostalgia as she did so, which she knew she shouldn’t.

There was fault in her desires, a contradiction in itself: to destroy an arrogant king’s depraved world on the one hand but to side with a man who was a product of this arrogance on the other hand; – two desires canceling each other out.

She had to choose one.

Because she couldn’t have both.


	5. 004

" Love is always a stranger in the house of avarice. "

•

Stricken with pain, Judar clutched the side of his head as he fell to the limestone-paved plaza of Balbadd's royal palace, screaming at the top of his lungs. Revelation kept flooding his mind in form of horrid pictures and emotions which he was never meant to see.

Myriads of black-robed figures with concealed faces marching into a peaceful backwater, disturbing innocent people's lives in an instant as they set on fire their houses, destroying everyone and everything which stood in their way as they followed the Magoi signature of some special being loved by the Rukh.

Images of a desperately pleading young woman with hair like his own, clutching an infant to her chest, etched themselves into Judar's mind like intricate engravings into a tombstone, intended to last for eternity. A man on his knees, begging for mercy at two distinguished figure's feet, found a quick end as a blade slit his throat with one precise cut; red liquid staining the hand-woven rug covering the small shed's dirty floor.

"Hand him over." A woman shrouded in black silk demanded with chilling coldness in her strangely familiar voice while she approached the trembling young ravenette quickly and impatiently; narrowed eyes flashing a dangerous crimson as she finally snatched the infant right out of his mother's arms.

Next, another body fell to the floor with a heavy thud, rendering the scene-setting a perfect specimen of Al Thamen's vile agenda.

"Judar!" Lamia exclaimed in painful awareness of the gruesome truth the youth was witnessing in this moment of disclosure she had kept hidden from him his entire life.

She rushed forward, divine staff in hand and ready to join the battle down below, swayed by the intention to get rid of Solomon's abomination for good this time, but just as the ravenette was about to cast a quick, simple spell in order to utilize gravitation magic, Ithnan's calloused fingers wrapped tightly around her forearm; short nails digging into bronzed skin.

"This is not your battle to fight, Lamia." The words left his lips in a stifled hiss as their eyes locked. "Stay out of my way and instead focus on the tasks bestowed upon you."

"Fine you're right." Lamia admitted involuntarily, tearing away from the other magician's strong hold on her. "But at least do something! Can't you see he's in pain?"

Her voice carried an eerily unfitting air of honest fear for the Kou's magi's well-being, Ithnan found to be quite repulsive. Lamia might have raised the boy, protected him from most cruel rituals incited by Arba but it was also her who killed his mother in cold blood after wrenching him from her arms. There was cruel irony in robbing this child of his mother, whom he had needed the most, replacing her and claiming to love him like he was her own.

Whatever the reason for her cruelty, nothing could justify what she had done, neither her substituted love for the young magi, nor the inevitable fate of everyone related to him, which they would have to suffer anyhow.

"You're right, this isn't good. The other magi's magic is controlling the priest." Ithnan said through gritted teeth as he observed the scene below.

"He's using Solomon's wisdom, you idiot! Now, do something before this half-bred prince will hurt him!"

Ignoring Lamia's insult and aggressive attitude towards him, the green-haired magician acted according to her demand, getting Judar out of harm's way by using Space-Time magic and making him disappear.

A sigh of relief escaped claret- colored lips. "Thank goodness, that was close."

"He's safe now so you can leave. I no longer need you here." Ithnan spoke with palpable aggravation of being ordered around by his equal. "You were bestowed with the honorable task of guaranteeing the Kou's princess' safety; summoning the black Rukh is my duty only."

Her lips curling upwards into a snide smirk, the ravenette shook her head in disappointment of his failed attempt at being sarcastic. "Don't worry old friend, I won't interfere any longer. I am well acquainted to Arba's habit of assigning you to the Organization's more sophisticated tasks." Lamia chuckled lightly. "I'm only ever assigned to petty duties for two reasons: first, the witch wants to ridicule me and second, she just wants me out of her sight."

"I can really relate to her second reason." Ithnan said underneath his breath as he watched her disappear.

•

Sea green eyes glazed over with familiar tenderness were focused on the wailing infant in Lamia's arms.

"You're holding him all wrong!" Falan exclaimed, rushing forward with outstretched arms and an expression of motherly concern etched into her usually stoic features. "Give him to me - he must be hungry and -

"I don't need your advice, Falan. I do know how to handle a newborn." The other female said coldly arrogant, cutting her short with an elegant movement of her hand as she walked past the magician.

"How could you know?" Falan hissed.

Turning around to face the woman she once considered a close friend, Lamia raised her eye-brows in fake misunderstanding. "I beg you pardon, what was that?"

"You heard me, Lamia."

The air was suddenly heavy with hostility and dangerous alertness as their eyes locked. Both women were staring each other down like lionesses ready to fight for their cub's life, gladly willing to sacrifice their own if it assured their young's survival.

"Come on, Falan. Why don't you just say it straight to my face?" Lamia challenged; the tender, yet firm hold on the newborn in her arms tightening protectively in the attempt to break down the redhead's reserve even more. "Telling me I don't know a thing about raising and loving a child won't make me change my mind about giving this precious child to you. It's not my fault you're still mourning the death of your own."

Falan narrowed her once kind and beautifully bright eyes in unspeakable hatred. "How dare you of all people, who has always coveted other people's happiness and doing everything to take it away from them judge me? Is it not you who is still mourning something you have never had in the first place?" she spoke in a voice unfittingly loud for a woman possessing such a petit frame, nearly drowning out even the boy's wailing, which made her heart sink more with every tear he shed.

A derisive smile graced maroon lips as she soothingly rocked the infant. "Who could have known that you still had it in you? I'm impressed, dear Falan, however -

"Now, now ladies what is the point in fighting over what doesn't belong to either of you?" Gyokuen's artificially sweet voice suddenly filled the room, catching both women's attention. "The magi is mine to raise and to teach and I do believe you both are aware of that fact." She added in a much more menacing tone; blue eyes locking onto crimson ones after casting Falan a spine-chilling glance.

"Unfortunately I'm not, Arba. What makes you believe that you own and control everything and everyone around here?" Lamia asked with venom in her voice.

"My dear friend, I suggest you'd refrain from defying me since you know what I am capable of. Hand the boy over to me - I don't have time for your stubbornness."

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline." The other women said clinically as she turned on her heal. "You might be Al-Thamen's leader and this country's Empress but this child is mine - after all it was me who found him."

Instead of stopping her, Gyokuen watched her fellow magi leave. "We will see about that, Lamia." A twisted smirk formed on her pretty face as she spoke the words in a nefarious tone unfitting for a lovely creature as herself.

Arba might have ruled the kingdom and lead the organization but she would come to learn that not everyone was bending to her will.


	6. 005

He had no right to cut Alibaba's plans of rebuilding Balbadd and introducing the country to a republican system short but had no obligation to, either. It had been the best decision for Alibaba's and Balbadd's sake as well, because the Kou was coming for it anyway, reclaiming its debt to the large empire.

Of course, however, bringing Alibaba and the other children to Sindria wasn't an act of selflessness; everything Sinbad did, decided and promised was, in fact, the opposite - an act of selfishness. He never acted without self-interest; his country and people always came first, standing about everything, always, invariably. And to him, this philosophy was perfectly valid. It had always been give and take: and no human being gives without taking first.

His stay in Kou had been tedious so far: political talk with the Emperor's council, a few drinks with important men - a favor expected of him and a sign of politeness and gratitude for being allowed to stay in the world's largest empire and being granted permission to roam the Kou with no restriction by the Emperor himself.

However he hadn't even met the ruler in person, yet.

Much to his astonishment, even Judar didn't even pay him the slightest amount of attention and avoided him like the pest (which he found rather odd since the magi had always been so focused on him), refusing to speak a word to him.

The only thing being enjoyable were the beautiful handmaidens pampering him and tending to his every need.

Not even the Kou's intricate architecture had piqued his interest. If anything it was too detailed, too meticulous, too ornate. He loved flamboyance but this was too much for even the most palatial of kings.

It had been her who came to his rescue, saving him from the boredom this country was constantly bringing upon him ever since he had arrived here.

Their eyes had met in the warm, dim light of oil lamps – gold clashing with ruby red as they stared each other down.

**.**

"Oh, we have met before." Sindria's king said with a pleasant smirk on his lips as he approached the tall woman, who was sitting in an intricately designed arm chair with a glass of wine in her hand. "You're the magician I met back in Balbadd a few weeks prior."

Lamia smiled up at him, her lips touching the rim of her glass.

"I never forget a beautiful woman's face."

"I take that as a compliment but I do reckon you forget a woman's name, my lord." she said with slight sarcasm in her voice as she put down her glass on the end table beside her before she rose to her feet.

Golden eyes crinkling in amusement – a gesture to cover up his forgetfulness. He never remembered the faces of the women he bedded or courted or let alone only flirted with. All he ever remembered was their beauty. And Lamia, although not yet one of the many women courted by him, possessed a kind of beauty he would fall for – but beauty had variety and there was nothing too special to him he hadn't already seen in an enticing female; long legs, sun-kissed skin, midnight locks and sinful lips – Sinbad had seen it all. Even though beauty's variety was plentiful, its magnificence ceased to mesmerize him long ago.

However, he might have forgotten her name but he remembered the wrath in her eyes, the power of her magic and her willingness to kill without hesitation.

She was ruthless and this ruthlessness reminded him of himself.

Lamia smiled - deep purple colored lips curled up into a wicked smirk he had only ever seen before on people like Baborossa, Lady Mardaar or even Judar – nonchalantly mentioning her name. "It's Arwa. I do understand, though. Men like you come across so many people of importance and lesser importance."

He didn't fail to notice the slight derision in her voice but decided to ignore it.

"Yes, Lady Arwa! How did I even dare to forget?" Sinbad replied with an enchanting smile, enticing eyes soft and dreamy. His scheme was simple but it worked with _everyone_.

He might have been born the son of a simple fisherman but the pain and hardship he had had to face during the last fifteen years of his – still young life – had shaped him into the devious being he had become; and there was no doubt it would work with this mesmerizing female magician, too.

Because to him that was just what she was – another pawn in his game, a woman he could easily court without putting much effort into it. The Kou's pretty princess, whose name and face he had forgotten the moment she had left Balbadd's throne room along with her advisor, was an even easier and much more vulnerable target to his alluringness but this lovely magician wasn't much harder to beguile, either.

Or so he thought.

If he only knew who she was.

Lamia walked past him, the bare skin of her arm brushing the light cotton of his sleeve. "Can I offer you a glass of wine?"

"Yes, please." He spoke softly, seductively; - just this particular tone of his voice, which would've left any female creature to his liking fainting by now but Lamia proved to be the kind of woman who needed a little more attention to succumb to his charms.

Sinbad watched her fetch a bejeweled glass form a disgustingly ornamented end table, pouring him a flamboyant looking deep burgundy. She moved elegantly but with defiance he thought to be intriguing.

She handed him the glass, long nails grazing his knuckles as their eyes met. "So what is your goal, King Sinbad?" she purred with all the intent of sounding both seductive and dangerous.

And much to her not knowing and knowing at the same time, she did succeed, leaving Sinbad, High King of the Seven Seas and beyond, recoiling from her touch. The darkness engulfing her hung heavy in the air – the coldness of depravity, he knew it all too well.

"My goal? I've already achieved everything I could have ever wished for." He chuckled. "What's yours?" Her fake name rolled off his wicked tongue like velvet, leaving the magi enchanted way beyond what she had thought he was actually capable of.

This time it was her who recoiled, for he was reminding her of a certain someone she had loved a millennium ago but whose heart never really had belonged to her in the first place.

She chuckled – vinaceous lips (the color of dried blood) wide apart, teeth showing as she smiled right at him. "You wouldn't even want to know."

They were close, too close for comfort and the urge to seize her lips overcame him, grew unbearable. Beside her alluring beauty there was something else about her, which drew him to her, something he couldn't put his finger on, leaving him with a sense of familiarity, he should've found repulsive but Depravity was a magnet to those prone to it and home to those who had already fallen.

Sinbad found himself caught somewhere in the middle.

Lamia averted her gaze, relieving the tension as she picked up her glass again. "Men, like you – I've encountered another one of your kind a long time ago, you know? Everything they touch turns to gold, every word that leaves their mouths either gives or takes life. Your kind is rare and blessed – singularities they call you – but believe me, with every blessing there comes a curse."

Soft, pleasant laughter escaped parted lips. "You're quite the fatalist, are you not?" Sinbad chuckled again as he met her hardened stare; eyes cold and menacing.

"Tell me, my lord, have you ever heard about King Midas?" Lamia asked suddenly.

He faltered for a second before it dawned on him. "Are you referring to the Midas Myth?" Sinbad questioned carefully, yet his brows were furrowed in slight confusion.

"That is indeed, true. Midas – a man who turned everything he touched into solid gold." She said coldly; a vacant almost apathetic look in her ruby eyes. "The Midas touch – you have it, King Sinbad."

He felt like laughing but something deep down inside of him told him not to. Instead he mirrored her expression, void of all lingering passion as he looked down upon the wine in his hand. "What profound thinking, my lady – comparing me to a tragic figure. I've never received such _compliment_." Sinbad took a sip from his cup before he continued, meeting her eyes yet again. "However, a comparison to Icarus might have been even more apt." He suggested, sarcasm bleeding into his voice as he already was secretly celebrating his triumph in beating her at her own game.

Contradicting as she was, Lamia's eyes lit up in mockery. "Icarus flew to close to the sun but a man who thinks of himself as the sun cannot be burned by it, can he?" 

He couldn't help the smirk gracing his lips. When was the last time someone had spoken to him with such underlying taunt in their voice? Sinbad really couldn't remember. Everywhere he went, people paid him respect but this magician found joy in making something akin to fun of him.

"Now you're calling me arrogant." He chuckled. "How come? Do I seem that haughty to you?"

She shook her head lightly, an almost unnoticeable smile on her painted lips. "Actually no – there's no arrogance in believing the truth. You are radiant and everybody's drawn to you. First class singularities like yourself are born to be the guiding light for other people."

Sinbad faltered for a split second but raised the question nonetheless. "Who are you really?" The tone of his voice was grave. His golden eyes narrowed and his perfect angular jaw tense as he locked eyes with her. The possibility of her being a member of the organization had occurred to him the second he had seen her fighting Aladdin back in Balbadd because being an ally to the Kou empire meant having ties with Al Thamen itself, but her Depravity along with the gleam in her ruby eyes told him she couldn't be just a simple magician.

"I'm a magician of the Kou, the Oracle's tutor and the empress' personal advisor." Lamia replied nonchalantly, self-satisfied that she wasn't even lying to him without revealing every detail about herself.

A deep frown edged itself into the high king's handsome features as he twirled the glass in his hand. "You're not just another simple magician – I sense you've fallen completely and utterly into Depravity and the rukh surrounding you is chirping too wildly for a regular magician. Could it be –

Realization hit him like a blow to the head. "Don't tell me you're a –

" _Magi_?" she finished his sentence for him.

Slight bewilderment (so out of character for him) washed over his features as he watched Lamia bringing her glass to her deep red lips.

" _No_ – at least not anymore. I used to be but now I'm not really sure what exactly I am." She said with a deep sigh after taking another sip of her wine.

She knew she had his interest piqued; it showed in the way he looked at her – eyes wide, almost in awe, pupils narrowed as if revelation had just revealed itself to him. Sinbad was the kind of man who would seize every opportunity he got and Lamia knew he had already schemed how he could use her in order to be beneficial to him.

She wouldn't let him, though.

Solomon's offspring was part of his plan, too because after all, Sindria (unlike the Kou) was a kingdom lacking the blessing of a magi and Lamia _just knew_ he was trying to get his hands on either Aladdin or her. Or maybe even both of them.

However, this was her game to play, not his – and it was _her_ who was going to make the rules.

Sinbad put down his glass before he took a step closer to her. His alluring golden eyes were still hard, focused but glazed over with passion different from the one radiating from them earlier.

He took her dainty hands into his, meeting her curious crimson gaze.

"We do have to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arwa is an a Arabic name meaning gracefulness and beauty - I chose this fake name for my character not only because it's supposed to fit her but because it's close to Arba and both women are not on such good terms in this story. Later on, this will make a little more sense.
> 
> Lamia is a figure in greek mythology. My choice of her name will make more sense in the long run.
> 
> Icarus - a god in greek mythology; the god whose wings got burned because he flew to close to the sun.
> 
> King Midas - also derived from greek mythology; a king who wished that everything he touched turned into gold but regretted his wish in the very end.
> 
> . Thank you so much in advance for reading, voting, commenting and also for criticizing!!


	7. 006

A complacent smile graced unpainted lips as she watched her reflection in her vanity’s mirror. She had known from the very beginning that Sindria’s king couldn’t allow himself to let an opportunity like this slip through his calloused fingers: a magi’s proposal to join him – a promise of granting more power to one of the mightiest, a promise of loyalty and submission.

Although having his main focus set on the greater good and his people’s well-being, Lamia knew Sinbad was prone to being conceited and reveled in another’s praise and worship. He might have been a singularity but that fact didn’t make him any less human. It only took a couple glasses of wine, seductive glances and moderate yet suggestive touches on his forearms or hands to make him fall for her scheme.

Lamia put down her ivory comb as she locked eyes with her own reflection once more, intently looking at herself in the mirror. People always used to praise her beauty, marveling at her exquisite elegance. A particular fellow white-haired magician once told her the term seductress was far more fitting than calling her a magician because her alluring attitude was even more powerful than her magic. The ravenette remembered a petite ginger nodding her head wildly in agreement; sea green eyes closed and a deep frown etched into her pretty features while the other magicians were laughing quite heartedly at the scene. These were remnants of harder yet much happier times which would never return to her, _sadly_.

A soft sigh left her lips as she brushed back silken strands, her crimson eyes still fixated on their duplicate in the vanity’s mirror. She could do this for hours; staring at herself in the mirror, exploring every detail of her face but it didn’t matter how long and intently she looked because she never recognized herself anymore. All that remained was a shell of the person she used to be. Too much time spent in this forlorn world turned her into a ghost, a _revenant_ who was looking for something unattainable.

One of her delicate hands slit down her throat further south underneath the silken fabric of her dressing gown as her mind wandered off to lingering moments of long gone devotion and desire. A man with midnight hair and obsidian eyes that had seen infinity roamed her mind, haunted her and left her craving for touch every time anew.

She was once adored but never loved.

The clattering of jewelry caught her attention, making her withdraw her hand from underneath her garment as she looked over her shoulder to meet a pair of familiar ruby eyes.

“Judar!” Lamia exclaimed as she rose from the chair she was sitting in. “You can’t walk into my chambers unannounced like this.”

“I need to talk to you, Arwa.” He said coldly; his words nothing more than a hiss.

“What is it, love?” Her voice carried warmth and concern for the youth she raised and nurtured ever since she’d taken him away from the people who had given him life.

Judar bit his lip hard before he spoke. “Is it true?”

Lamia tightened the robe of her champagne-colored dressing gown, covering her exposed cleavage as she approached the equally tall magi. “What do you mean, Judar?”

His eyes were hard and focused on the woman’s willowy form. “Did you kill my parents and stole my life?”

The words hit her like a blow to the head, leaving her paralyzed and with a cold shiver running down her spine. “ _W-what_?”

“This little magi, he showed me my past or something like that, you know? I don’t know how and why but strange images kept flooding my mind during the battle back in Balbadd and have me wondering if they were actually true. I’m not sure if they are but they feel like the truth.” Judar said with bitterness in his voice.

Lamia’s heart ached with familiar pain, she would have never guessed to experience ever again. Red eyes wide and trembling, she took another step forward, whispering the youth’s name softly, lovingly as she tried to cup his face. However, the young magi recoiled from her motherly touch and glared at her with what equaled pure hatred.

“Tell me, is it true?” he asked again.

“Judar – I, I don’t know what you saw –

“Don’t bullshit me, hag! Just go ahead and tell me.” he yelled, leaving Lamia frozen in her very spot.

However, she resumed her posture, giving Judar a weakly sad yet derisive smirk. “You’ve never called me that, you know? And I must admit it hurts, but well, I’m not going to lie to you, Judar.” She told him calmly, yet disappointment and hurt bled into her voice and was clearly audible. “What this little pest showed you is indeed true.”

Ruby iris went wide, becoming the size of the moon. His jaw dropped and Lamia could’ve sworn she saw tears accumulating at the corners of those marvelous eyes. However, his demeanor changed so quickly – turning from utterly shocked into hateful – it could’ve only been her hopeful imagination that made her see things.

“You mendacious bitch!” Judar cursed, balling his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Why? Why did you do this?!”

“Judar, _love_ , listen to me.” Lamia spoke as serenely as she could muster. “I can imagine how confused you are but –

“Bullshit! You can imagine shit. Those fucking images keep haunting my mind. But this ain’t the worst part; the worst part is the lies. You fucking lied to me my whole life.”

She wasn’t prone to crying but tears dared to fall form her eyes. This boy, she had raised him with love and care, considering him the child she had never been granted. “No, I’ve never lied to you. All I ever did was hiding the truth.” She explained remorsefully while trying to get a hold of the youth’s hand. “I followed orders – _we all did_.”

He pulled away violently. “Bullshit.” He cursed once more.

“Judar, tell me, what difference does it make? The images you’ve been shown must’ve been horrible but what has occurred doesn’t change the fact how deeply I care about you.” Lamia said with graveness in her voice.

“It doesn’t make a difference you say? You robbed me of my origin, of my fucking parents and maybe even siblings. I would’ve had a family if it weren’t for you!” he shouted, pointing his wand right at the ravenette.

Something inside her snapped as she witnessed the hatred in his eyes, the defiance of his posture – she sensed his intent to challenge her, his intent to kill if necessary. Here was the boy she had considered her own even if he wasn’t born from her own body, insulting her, threatening her, forgetting all the love she’d given him.

One hand came up quickly to snatch the golden wand from Judar’s hand, sending it flying to the furthest corner of her bedroom, the other gripped his white _chunnari_ tightly, pulling the magi towards her so their foreheads almost touched.

“ _How dare you_?” she hissed. “After all I have done for you, how dare you be so ungrateful? I raised you, protected you from the entire organization and the person who runs this empire. And this is how you repay me?” she chuckled darkly, blood-red eyes burning right into Judar’s very soul. “What this abomination of a magi has shown you is the truth yet you’re ought to be at your knees and thank me you for the life I’ve been offering you.”

The magi tried to pull away from her, casting a quick spell as he did so but Lamia canceled his accumulating magic out by just gripping his bejeweled wrist tightly.

“Do you honestly think you’ve been happier growing up in a sad backwater with parents and siblings who wouldn’t even have grasped the slightest of your true nature? You’re a magi, Judar and you belong with your kind. Those people might have given you life, but I _made_ you. You’re the combined effort of all my time, teachings and love.” Lamia hissed with venom in her voice. “This means you belong with me.”

Frozen, paralyzed and petrified, the young magi locked onto her piercing gaze with utmost hateful desperation.

His words nothing but a faint whisper – a plea to her ears, which left her shocked and ashamed of her cruelness: “Let go off me.”

And so she did.

“Judar, I – “

Recoiling fiercely, the young magi averted his gaze as he summoned his wand to his hand. His bare feet seemingly moved on their own, heading for the window through which he had entered the woman’s chamber.

He casted her one last glance before he went flying off. “If you ever approach me again, I will kill you.” He threatened with brutal honesty. “I fucking hate you.”

Lamia had always considered herself to be a strong and poised woman but as soon as the youth was gone, she fell to her knees, the tears daring to fall from her eyes, finally rolling down her cheeks.

For the first time in a millennium she was crying.

**.**

Desire was an emotion far stronger than pain, hurt and even hatred to her. It brought distraction to every emotional state – no matter how bad. And distraction was what she was aiming for.

A sharp knock on his door left Sinbad mildly startled, since he hadn’t expected visitors this late at night – especially not while residing in a foreign kingdom.

“ _Comin’_ ” he yelled with audible annoyance as he donned a light, navy blue tunic.

Golden eyes widened in slight unbelief at what he witnessed; disheveled black locks, burgundy eyes half lidded and exposure of bronze skin hidden underneath garments resembling a breath of nothing.

_“Lady Arwa?”_ Was all he managed to utter before she threw her lithe body at him, seeking his lips like her life depended on it.

Being educated in everything involving the merely physical, Sinbad didn’t falter a split second to join in, kissing back with ferocity as he slammed the door shut behind the two of them. His hands traveled down her back, gripping her small waist to lift her up, expecting her to wrap her slender legs around his hips.

With her legs crossed at the ankle, he carried her to his bed while they kept on kissing with a feverish passion devoid of any tenderness shared between lovers. But there weren’t lovers – in fact they were perfect strangers only bound by the ties a king had with his magi.

Lamia would later wonder if sharing intimacy within this bond is considered a sin.

Sinbad towered over her; honey eyes clouded with a hunger she’d only ever seen in another singularity’s and it drove her insane, clawing at the man above her in a heated frenzy.

Nimble fingers loosened the knot of his tunic with ease while he fought to unravel the ribbon of her dressing gown. It wasn’t like Sinbad was clumsy at these sorts of things, it was just his tipsiness which left him with a little less flair than usual. Anyhow, Lamia slapped his hand away and undid the silken belt which held her garment together, revealing her nudity to him without shame.

She allowed him to marvel for a moment, taking in the sight of subtle breasts, a toned stomach and everything which was only allowed to claim by somebody worthy of it, while Lamia borrowed her face in the crook of his neck.

He smelled of oriental herbs and lavender and masculinity but was doused in the stench of wine and other women’s cheap perfume, yet Lamia couldn’t care less.

The remnants of liquor on sinful lips were intoxicating, the smell of prostitutes clinging to him only challenged her sense of competition and the scent underneath drove her almost insane.

She gripped his lilac hair violently, forcing his head down south to which he obliged with no retort, leaving kisses and mild bite marks on his way down in between her legs.

Bliss came over her in tidal waves as he ran his mouth along and flicked his tongue across her womanhood, teasing, kissing, sucking with expertise which rendered the _fallen_ magi falling even deeper into rapture rather than depravity.

Soft, yet needy moans filled the room, drowning out every sound there was outside the palace and inside her head – the voices whispering time-barred sins, crimes long forgiven by time itself and a breach of trust which took away the only person she still cared about.

The digging of short nails into the skin of her sun-kissed thighs plus the growing pressure in between them almost drove her over the edge but Sinbad knew better than to grant her sweet release just yet. Withdrawing his face from in between her slender legs, he gave her one of his trademark dazzling smiles as he leaned into her; fingers playing with long, jet black tresses.

Sinbad was fully aware he had her panting, craving for more than _this_. He would’ve liked her to fall into begging but the lust in her crimson eyes was enough for him to give her what she wanted so badly.

Lining himself up with her entrance, he almost lost it as he sank deeper into her. Gentle gasping escaped his wine-stained lips as he adjusted himself within her only to be caught by surprise as the woman underneath flipped him over with swift elegance, he’d never experienced before.

The smile gracing pale lips was wicked, almost devilish when their eyes finally met, rendering Sinbad literally speechless and unprepared for her swirling movements on top.

What transpired next meant bliss for both of them – joined, yet disconnected they sought their own pleasure in this unfortunate tryst. No feelings involved, only lust and a need to drown out the demons haunting her mind defined their love-making.

_Kiss, claw, bite_.

Another thrust upwards and a last rock of slim hips let white heat course through their veins before they came down from their height.

Sinbad gasped heavily as Lamia finally rolled over on her lithesome back, letting out an equally satisfied moan.

“Now … what was that all about?” Sinbad finally asked with a playful smirk when the lingering heat finally subsided. “I wouldn’t have guessed having you in my bed so soon.”

The magi rose herself into a sitting position looking down upon the singularity with dangerously narrowed eyes.

“ _Pain_.” She told him without the slightest trace of emotion in her voice. “This has been all about pain.”


	8. 007

_She knows hers isn't the only skin his ink-stained fingers touch when the sun has disappeared below the horizon, but she feels like sweet bliss has come over her whenever he seeks to lay with her.  
_

_He isn't gentle when he makes love.  
_

_Hips bruise hers in their frantic rhythm, sharp teeth leave bite marks in their wake as carnal desire takes hold of him, overwhelms him and ignites those cold obsidian eyes with a fiery passion she knows is only meant for her.  
_

_David Jehoahaz Abraham isn't a kind man but when he's united with her like this, he worships, praises her flesh like it's something sacred, something divine and worth his unwavering attention.  
_

_Why else did he choose to create another female magician who possesses the ability to fill a void his wives and concubine's are unable to?_

_Lamia likes to enshroud herself in his adoration_ , _likes to drown in his devotion at night when the silver moon shines through silken curtains, engulfing their sun-kissed bodies in its soft, white light. Their shared intimacy is what she breathes for -- his touch is what really makes her feel alive. And even though there is no tenderness in his touches, she has found peace in his violence a long time ago._

_"I think I love him."_

_Large brown eyes look at her with unfathomable amounts of sincere pity, she finds misplaced.  
_

_"Lamia, you know", Arba says softly as she places a hand on the other woman's shoulder, "Elder David is incapable of feeling, let alone reciprocating such emotions. You should be careful not to let yourself get carried away by sentiments."  
_

_Crimson eyes narrow to slits as they lock onto Arba's beautiful light brown ones, holding no trace of this horrible malice which would later dwell in their depths.  
_

_"How would you know?"  
_

_The ravenette's words are a vile hiss of jealousy, passing burgundy-painted lips, which would later speak deceit and dripping venom.  
_

_The brunette magician sighs softly and withdraws her hand from Lamia's bronze shoulder.  
_

_"I've been around way longer than you and have been where you are now."  
_

_Although spoken gently and laced with good intention, Arba's words pierce the other woman's heart like a knife. Her soft expression, the sincere compassion and understanding in those damn large fawn eyes irritates, angers her to the point of longing to slit her fragile throat.  
_

_"I'm not saying, you are to him what I was to him, but if you want my advice, I suggest you should be careful how much of yourself you invest in Elder David, for he doesn't appreciate your emotional attachment."  
_

_Lamia's knuckles turn white from wrapping them too tightly around the stem of her divine staff. She is seething with anger because she is aware there lies truth in her fellow magician's valuable advice, she has tried so hard to deny all this time.  
_

_He doesn't love her -- never has and probably never will; yet, the way he touches her, the way he pays devotion in between dim candlelight and silken sheets is proof she isn't just another one of his creations, which become disposable once David has no further use for them.  
_

_Of course she has heard  the rumors about magician's vanishing, facing death on David's mere whim. He is as cruel as he is powerful; she's aware of this fact, too, but he is never cruel to her -- never has and_ definitely _never will.  
_

_"Your jealousy disgusts me, Arba."  Lamia sneers, burgundy-painted lips curling into a wicked grin. "If you say you've been were I am now, than he must have gotten tired of you a long time ago. You should be glad you're still around."_

_This devastating pity in the brunette's eyes lingers like David's touches on Lamia's skin as they lie together in the aftermath.  
_

_She shakes her head in sad disbelief. "You're a smart woman, Lamia. Why are you trying so hard to deny what is obvious to you?" Arba says firmly, yet softly; her tone concealing the growing derision underneath her breath. "However, I'll pray for you."_

_"You and your god." The other woman mocks. "Don't you think you're worshipping Ill Illah a little too intensely?"  
_

_"Don't you think you're doing the same to Elder David?"  Arba counters; yet there's still no trace of mischievousness in her big brown eyes, only defiance._

_Lamia's deep red eyes crinkle in amusement as a dark chuckle leaves her equally red lips. "Arba, don't you ever forget, that David is our creator; without him you and I would not even be here."  
_

_"And without our Father,_ he _, you and I would not be here, either."  
_

_"You have a point, yet whom or what we worship should be left for ourselves to decide, don't you agree? David_ made _me, Ill Illah has given me nothing so far. What has this god of yours given you?"  
_

_"You're speaking blasphemy, Lamia."_

_"And you are denying your creator."  
_

_"Our father is the creator of everything."  
_

_"Oh Arba", the ravenette sighs softly while approaching the equally tall magician, placing a delicate hand on her shoulder, "you're a foolish zealot. What good is praying to a higher being whose existence you cannot even prove?  Has Ill Illah revealed himself to you? No -- of course he hasn't. Start focusing on things  which are palpable_ _; life has more to offer than mere elusiveness."_

_"I truly pity you, for you have no faith, Lamia."  Arba whispers into her ear as she leans in on her.  
_

_A hand comes up to grip the brunette's chin firmly, forcing Arba to lock eyes with the other female magician; brown topaz clashing with ruby. "Fuck faith." Lamia hisses dangerously, yet seductively like a temptress serpent. "I only have faith in what I can see and touch."  
_

 

**.** _  
_

 

Ren Gyokuen could've grown into a kind, beautiful woman, empress, wife and mother but Arba had already taken her future and life away from her the minute she left her own mother's womb. 

Arba's daughters were hers to possess, to inhabit, to bend to her will; her sons were failures, born to die and cursed with a fate worse than her female descendants. Her children were her life-stock, begotten only to serve her one and only purpose; to revive a god killed by a false king, she had served for way too long. 

Witnessing her fellow magi torturing, killing, _murdering_ those innocent children she was ought to love and protect, used to make Lamia's heart ache with unbearable pain and brought tears to her eyes. She used to wonder how something as fragile and precious as a child, born of ones own body, could be of no value and disposable to a woman, a mother, who instead of creating, _gives_ life to something as beautiful as a newborn.

However as time passed, her heart grew numb to Arba's cruelness. Death is only dramatic for as long as it remains an isolated case, once it has occurred too often, becoming a triviality, it loses it's meaning, because, after all, only a single death is a tragedy, a million deaths are nothing more than a statistic. 

In the very end, it might have just been the longing for something unattainable, which had rendered her vulnerable to Arba's vile way of treating her children. Unlike Falan, Lamia had learned to acknowledge death's hidden beauty, which granted not only redemption but everlasting peace to those who had perished, to those who had left behind Solomon's rotten world in order to return to the Great Flow. 

However, Falan would continue trying to find a way to reclaim her son until the day she died. 

"Lamia, what a pleasure to have you here!" Gyokuen exclaimed in mock cheerfulness from where she was sitting in her throne. "I can't remember the last time I've seen you in these holy halls." Pleasant laughter escaped the woman's red-painted lips, echoing from colorfully ornamented pillars lining the vast throne room. "However, may I ask what brings you here?"

The sudden change to the tone of her voice made Lamia smirk as she approached the fair-skinned Empress, whose cold blue eyes were narrowed to slits and focused on her willowy form. Her coming here only happened once in a blue moon and never meant the deliverance of pleasant news for Al-Thamen or Gyokuen herself. 

The last time she had been setting food into the Organization's assembly hall was to report the news of Falan's death to Arba, which had left her fuming with anger not because they had lost a dear friend and  valuable member of Al Thamen, but because they had failed to revive Ill Illah yet again, despite having been so close. 

"You look pretty in that dress, I must say." Gyokuen suddenly spoke as her eyes fell on Lamia's unusual outfit. "Aren't you cold, though?" She raised her perfectly plucked brows in curiosity as to why her fellow magician chose to wear a revealing Arabic style gown in a country where even the summers were chilly. 

A smirk still graced Lamia's maroon lips as she came to a hold before the Empress' throne. "I'll soon be in a country where dresses like this one are the perfect choice of garments to wear." She told Gyokuen with amusement dancing in her voice. "Thank you, though, old friend. I've always thought light and silky middle-eastern clothing suited me way more than these layers and layers of frilly, stiff fabric." she chuckled.

"Of course they do." Gyokuen agreed happily while rising regally from her throne. "Imperial clothing is made for Empresses and royalty, light fabrics and revealing gowns are made for dancers, handmaidens and harlots." 

The ravenette's fingers wrapped tightly around the divine staff in her hand, making her knuckles turn white. However, she decided to ignore the other female's obvious insult and instead just cast her a death stare. What she was about to tell her, would be enough payback. 

Arba descended the the stairs with imperial, intimidating grace, which had left many grown and powerful men quivering at the Empress' feet. 

"Let us cut the pretense and get down to business. Where are you going, Lamia?" The magi's voice was laced with menace and those piercing blue eyes glinted with dangerous malice equal to the glint in David's eyes whenever he had looked at his own son. 

The other female magician folded her arms across her chest, golden bangles pleasantly jingling with the movement. "As you wish, Arba." she mocked. "I'm going to Sindria."

Suspicion bled into Gyokuen's fine features as she took another step towards her fellow magi. "Why would you want to go to Sindria?" 

A radiant smile spread across Lamia's face while placing an elegant, tanned hand on the Empress's shoulder. "I've chosen Sinbad as my king and he accepted me as his magi. I'm going to serve him instead of serving you, old friend, " she explained with taunting underneath her voice, "which means I'm finally going to leave the Organization."

Confusion suddenly danced in Gyokuen's eyes as they locked onto the other woman's ruby ones before realization hit her.

"Don't tell me you're looking for _him_?" 

"Maybe." Lamia retorted with a smug smile lingering on her deep red lips. 

Confusion turned into anger as she slapped the ravenette's hand off her shoulder. "You're a fool, Lamia -- an utter fool." She hissed. "Elder David killed Falan as he took over Sinbad's body that day in Parthevia. So even if you succeeded in repeating this tragic faux pas, what makes you so sure he wouldn't annihilate you the moment he saw you?" 

"Aww, are you actually worried about me, Arba?" 

A dry chuckle escaped painted lips as she shook her head slowly. "No, not really but you're a valuable member of Al Thamen and even if I hate to admit it, you've always been the only one succeeding in accomplishing every mission I assigned you with. Plus you're the only one still being on par with me when it comes to power." Gyokuen admitted; the monotone sound of her voice hardly concealing her disapproval. "Your service would be a huge loss, Lamia."

"I'm done working for you." The ravenette stated plainly. "I finally found a purpose for still existing in this vile world."

Anger than turned into the purest form of mockery once more. "A purpose for still existing?!" The Empress repeated with eyes wide and lips curled upwards. "I thought little Judar was your only purpose in life. What happened to your bottomless love for our much appreciated Oracle, hn?" she asked sardonically while leaning forward, arms akimbo. "Oh wait, did you finally get tired of him? I always wondered when that would finally happen. You've always had the tendency to be utterly enamored with someone until the day they'd start to bore you. However, your infatuation with him lasted longer than I'd thought; eighteen years is quite a long time."

"Watch your mouth, Arba." Lamia warned. "You know that Judar is different."

"Oh of course he is; how could I forget that he's the son you've never had." She reminded herself while clicking her tongue. "Unlike Solomon, he _actually_ considered you his mother for a while, even if you've never -- "

"I told you to watch your tongue." Lamia repeated in a serpent's hiss as she dug the edge of a knife's blade a little deeper into the Empress' swan neck. 

"I didn't see that coming. I'm impressed -- or no, actually I shouldn't be. You've always been quite the competition when it comes to close combat and swordsmanship." Gyokuen chuckled darkly. "However, don't you think you could kill me that easily."

One swift move and Arba had already flung the knife out of Lamia's hand, sending it flying against one of the ornamented pillars before suddenly lunging out at her with her divine staff. However, the other female was quick to dodge her attack with her own wand. 

"It would take a lot more effort to kill you than a simple knife, Arba. I give you that." Lamia admitted while backing off. "However, it's never been my intention to do so. Do what ever you want; revive your god -- I don't care anymore." She spoke with a certain kind of indifference that hit a particular nerve somewhere deep inside the other female magi. "I'm out of here, though, doing things my own way from now on." 

"I bet you will, _old friend_." The Empress spoke with narrowed eyes, watching Lamia turn gracefully on her heel. "However all you end up doing is serving the first class singularity the same way you have served Elder David, Solomon and me. You and me are not that different, for I have served both of them, too. The difference between the two of us, however, is that I severed all ties to the past. But you, Lamia, cling to it like a drunkard to the last drop of alcohol inside an empty bottle. It's what has been poor Falan's demise and it's going to be yours, too." 

Lamia cast the other woman one last glance over her shoulder before she continued walking down the long hallway. 

"We will see about that when the time has come, Arba. There's a reason why I chose to take the side of somebody who not only sees destiny but cradles it in the palm of his very hand."

**.**


	9. 008

Lamia had been well aware she would encounter Solomon's son once she arrived at her king's country, and, had therefore tried to mentally prepare herself for said encounter, yet the urge to slit the child's throat right there and then grew almost unbearable. The boy just looked so much like his dead parents, it made the bile rise up in her throat whenever her disdainful glance met his large blue eyes, filled with trepidation. She knew he could feel the chilling coldness of the rukh which surrounded her; the suffocating feeling of Depravity, which was terrifying for a pure and innocent being like him, who did know nothing about his true nature.

However, there was a certain kind of hostile awareness underneath the fear in those large, round ocean eyes, which made her suspicious. After all he was raised and taught by Ugo, who not only granted him Solomon's wisdom but could've told him about his origin and the world he had been supposed to grow up in, alongside people who once served his traitorous father.

Lamia might have never gotten along with Arba, even before she started hating the brunette's guts, but their shared hatred for Solomon was what bound them together in order to erase what he has left behind. If Arba was still so keen on destroying the world he had created, Lamia would not hesitate to kill the blue-haired boy, if given the chance to.

But for now, she had to play along and act according to her king's plan, for she was aware he was scheming to use the little magi and his power for his own sake.

"Aladdin." Lamia spoke the boy's name firmly, yet in a pleasant tone. "I hope you can forgive my attacking you back in Balbadd. I was blinded by rage." Even though her pride told her not to, she bowed her head slightly as she apologized. "I am sincerely sorry."

An awkward silence lay heavy in the air as both magi's eyes locked. Aladdin watched her intently, almost with curiosity as is gaze wandered from her face to her cleavage, jumping forward, arms wide open as if he wanted to embrace her. However, he was immediately stopped by a violent hit to his back with a heavy looking staff.

"I told you not to do this!!!" A turquoise-haired woman shouted angrily at the poor boy, who rubbed his back with a painful expression on his face.

"You're such a cruel person, Yam. I was just going to accept her apology." he wined.

A little confused, yet mildly amused by the scene playing before her, Lamia let out an unexpected chuckle, which caught the pretty woman's attention.

"I am so sorry, honorable magi. Please excuse Aladdin's rudeness. I promise it won't happen again." she apologized, pressing down the boy's head as she bowed deeply.

"It's alright." Lamia spoke rather indifferently as she cocked an elegant brow. "I assume you're the royal magician or am I mistaken?"

The blue-haired woman's head shot up but before she had the chance to reply, Sindria's king had already answered in her stead.

"You are not mistaken." Sinbad confirmed with a dazzling smile on his lips as he approached the three magicians, metal vessels clanking with every regal step he took, crossing the beautiful garden's marble-tiled plaza. "This is Yamraiha, an excellent magician from Magnostadt and royal magician of Sindria." He introduced her, pointing a hand at the woman, whose looks reminded Lamia of a mermaid rather than a sorceress. "And this, Yamraiha, is Arwa, who from now on will serve Sindria as it's magi."

"It's my pleasure to meet you." the ravenette said politely.

"Ah no, it's my plea --, a no I mean it's an honor to meet you and work along side you from now on. I honestly can't wait for you to teach me -- to show me -- oh gods what am I'm saying." Yamraiha mumbled before again, bowing her head. "Forgive me, Lady Arwa."

A look of confusion washed across Sinbad's handsome features as he watched his usual clam and composed magician getting all worked up over meeting yet another magi.

Lamia cocked her head to the side. "It's fine. I'm looking forward to working with you, too, Yamraiha." she said with a smile gracing maroon-painted lips. "And please, if you don't mind, drop the formalities. Just call me Arwa."

"Yes, of course, I will immediately -- ah no --", Yamraiha shook her head wildly before she continued speaking more calmly, a bright smile on her pretty face, "thank you, Arwa, for offering your service to our kingdom."

"Hah, are you trying to be polite?" Sharrkan suddenly snickered as he pulled at the brim of Yam's large witch hat. "Doesn't suit you at all." He added before he turned to Sindria's magi. "This one here might look sweet and innocent, but she really can be a sly and feisty witch. Don't be fooled by her humbleness, Arwa."

Lamia watched the tanned male laugh whole-heartedly as he pulled the hat even further into the magician's face, who was desperately trying to hit him with her staff. She had already made Sharrkan's acquaintance back in the Kou since he and Spatos had accompanied their king on his journey, and couldn't help liking his bright and boisterous attitude.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Actually, the two of you remind me of a married couple I once knew. They have been just as adorable as the two of you are together."

The dumbfounded looks on both their faces were priceless as they both exchanged fleeting glances before two large pairs of eyes stared at the magi.

"Couple?"

"Married?!"

Lamia felt a pleasant urge to laugh, because this felt so familiar, a strange feeling of nostalgia overwhelming her as she remembered Falan and Wahid teasing each other like this. However, a sharp, cold glance from her King prevented her from doing so.

"I see you have already met Aladdin." Sinbad said, ignoring his generals. "I expect the two of you to get along and work together."

The tone of his voice was clinical, laced with a mild threat aimed not at Aladdin but at Lamia, to remind her of the agreement they had made back in the Kou empire. She was not allowed to harm the boy in whatever way, and if she should try, Sinbad would not hesitate to stop her.

The first class singularity didn't trust her entirely, which Lamia fully understood, because after all, she had served a foreign country and was part of the organization which secretly ran this empire, posing a threat to Sindria and its people. However, she didn't like the way her king constantly showed suspicion towards her, who had sworn loyalty to him.

A delicate smile formed on painted lips as her ruby eyes met his mesmerizing golden ones. "Of course, my king. I have already apologized for what I've done to the boy that night in Balbadd and I am still terribly sorry."

"Good." Sinbad confirmed with a sharp not of his head. "However, I still like you to meet the rest of my generals and and the people who serve me."

His demeanor suddenly changed, his handsome face relaxing and the cold gleam in his eyes becoming an excited sparkle as he turned to Yam and Sharrkan. "This can wait until later, though, for tonight is Mahrajan, my friends."

**.**

Sindria was an undeniably beautiful country, bursting with vibrant color and filled with laughter of its people. There lingered a constantly pleasant scent of oriental herbs and spices in the air and the calming sound of the turquoise ocean could be heard everywhere one went. Lamia could not remember the last time she felt so serene, almost relieved as if a burden had been lifted off her shoulders, but had to admit that it was a pleasant feeling. Compared to the Kou Empire, her king's country lacked the sense of dread one would get when walking the palace's long hallways. There lurked danger and nasty secrets around every corner, the stench of death and filthy conspiracies being barely covered up by the heavy amounts of incense and sage used to cleanse the palace. 

Here in Sindria however, even the robes and garments were light and colorful; women wore revealing dresses, showing off scandalous amounts of sun-kissed skin, and plumeria blossoms in their hair as they ran across the large plaza of King Sinbad's palace with their lovers on their arms. 

This place came closest to what Lamia could imagine paradise would feel and look like and she had no intention of leaving anytime soon. 

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Sharrkan asked with his trademark grin as he sat down next to Lamia, who had been sitting alone on a divan, watching Sinbad enjoying himself with being surrounded by pretty young ladies, from one of the palace's many balconies. 

"That's our king's harem." the white-haired male explained without being even asked, while pouring himself a glass of wine from Lamia's carafe. "Twelve women in total and absolutely off limits to anyone but him. I asked him once if I could get it on with the blonde one sitting on his lap but not a chance." He went on, green eyes rolling to the starry night sky. "I tell you, Sinbad is the most generous man I know but when it comes to his women he's one selfish bastard."

"Aha, I see." The magi said rather indifferently from behind her glass' rim. "However I suggest you should not let your king hear you called him a _selfish bastard_." 

"You won't tell, right?" The bronze-skinned general asked hesitantly and with raised brows. 

"Of course not." A smirk graced dark purple lips as their eyes met. 

A wave of relief washed across Sharrkan's handsome features. "That's good to know." he chuckled, leaning back and crossing one leg leisurely over the other. "Do you know that you look mesmerizing in that dress? I noticed it's almost the same one all the dancers are wearing. So tell me are you going to -- 

"DON'T YOU DARE FLIRT WITH A SORCERESS OF CREATION, YOU PERVERT!!!" Yamraiha yelled at the shocked white-haired general, who rubbed the back of his head in the attempt to ease the pain caused by the collision of the magician's wand. 

"Are you crazy? That fucking hurt!"

"Oh I hope it does." Yam said with a satisfied smile on her lips. "That's what you get for being an insolent pervert. So tell me, who is the one being disrespectful." 

"It is entirely fine." Lamia chuckled lightly. "I was actually enjoying Sharrkan's company and I'd like you to join me, too." She offered, pointing a manicured hand at the second divan across from them. "I think I'm done watching my king finding pleasure in groping young women." 

A faint blush crossed the blue-haired magician's cheeks at hearing the magi uttering the last  sentence while Sharrkan snickered darkly. 

"Now, I wouldn't let Sinbad hear that you just literally called him a perverted old man." 

The magician cocked her head to the side, luscious black locks falling over her exposed shoulder before she took a sip of wine. "Oh, but I didn't." she said nonchalantly, smiling at both of her king's generals, which made the trio burst out into laughter.

**.**

"Hey, Hinahoho, where are Aladdin and the other two kids?" Sinbad yelled at the tall blue-haired male from in between two pairs of ample breasts. "I wanted them to meet the rest of you. Ah and, where's my magi? I believe you, Pisti and Drakon haven't met her, yet." 

"I'm impressed he's still able to remember who of us hasn't met this woman, yet." Ja'far mumbled.

"He isn't even nearly as drunk as the last time, remember?" A petite blonde woman whispered from behind her hand. 

"Don't remind me of this horrible night, Pisti." 

"Which night do the two of you mean?" asked Spatos, who, clad in his country's armor, looked so strangely out of place. 

"Ah c'mon everyone. It's Mahrajan, let our king have a little fun." Hinahoho chuckled loudly with hands akimbo as he leaned forwards to be at eye level with Spatos and Ja'far. 

"Says the one who keeps on telling Sinbad to get married and have a lot of kids." The former assassin spoke underneath his breath, seemingly annoyed with the whole situation. "But maybe you're only telling us to let him drink himself into oblivion because you're drunk yourself, Hinahoho." He added, sharp green eyes casting a reproachful glance at the Imuchakk warrior. "Anyway, I'll go and look for Alibaba, Aladdin and Morgiana. One of you should go and find the magi." 

"What's wrong with our king's magi?" Pisti asked as she watched her fellow general leave. "Ja doesn't really seem to like her or am I mistaken?" 

"No, he doesn't and I must admit, I don't really like her, either." A tall Fanalis suddenly spoke out of nowhere. 

"Masrur?" The blonde asked exitedly. "Where did you come from all of a sudden?" 

"I was here the entire time ..." 

"Oh, I'm sorry; you're always so quiet, you know?" she chuckled, waving her hand awkwardly. 

An annoyed sigh escaped the redhead's lips. "Anyway, I will look for her."

"Okay, see ya later." 

"Yeah, yeah whatever."

"Hey Spatos, do you think Masrur is mad at me?" 

"If I had to guess, I'd say he's a little offended." The red haired knight suggested. 

"Hn, maybe." Pisti said, shrugging her shoulders before her head shot to the side, looking at her fellow general with wide eyes. "Where's Drakon at? I haven't seen him all night."

"He probably spends time with his wife." 

"Aha, of course he does." The blonde mused, bringing an index finger to her chin as a faint blush graced her cheeks.

**AN //** _just for the record, Drakon is still a regular human being in my story, not a Dragon, because first, I didn't want to make things awkward and second, because I personally like him much better that way._ :') **//**

**.**

"What's up, Aladdin?" Alibaba asked with a drunken grin on his face, speech already slurred as he smacked the young boy on the back. "Aren't you enjoying yourself? I mean look at this: the wine, the women, the food -- this place is the best thing that has happened to us in months! I mean, right, Morgiana?" 

"I guess so." The pretty Fanalis agreed, nodding her head quickly.

Aladdin looked at both his friends, a hesitant smile on his face. "No, of course I'm enjoying myself." he said, locking eyes with Alibaba. "It's just that, you know -- 

"Ah I know, you haven't had a single drop of liquor tonight. This might help to lighten the mood." the blonde prince interrupted, already filling a glass with rich merlot. 

"Aladdin is too young to drink." Ja'far scolded as he ripped the glass from Alibaba's hands, earning an appalled stare from him. "King Sinbad wants to see you all. If you'll please follow me." 

**.**

Masrur's usually stoic features turned into a rather annoyed expression as he finally found Sindria's magi conversing with a heavily drunken swordsman and a tipsy magician. He couldn't really tell if Lamia was a little intoxicated too, since he had only seen her once, a few months back in Balbadd, when she had been driven by rage and hatred, attacking them all with the intent to kill. Now, however, she smiled and laughed at the tanned general's corny jokes and Yam's drunken antics, leaving the Fanalis with the notion, that even his king's magi must've drunken a little too much. 

"Hey, Masrur, join us!" Sharrkan slurred, watching the redhead approach. "Ah, but before you do, bring another carafe of wine, will ya!?" 

Ignoring his fellow general, he turned to Lamia, whose ruby eyes narrowed the minute she met his reddish ones. "Lady Arwa, King Sinbad has summoned you. Please follow me." 

"I've never heard you speaking so f-formal." Yamraiha hiccuped, grinning at the tall ex gladiator. "It kinda suits you, tho." 

Crudely ignoring the beautiful magician, too, Masrur nodded his head in the magi's direction as he watched her rise elegantly to her feet. "The two of you should really consider getting married." Lamia told the drunken couple before she turned to leave. "You know like they say, opposites attract?" 

**.**

Sinbad's golden gaze fell on her form the moment she arrived alongside Masrur and ever since had never left her. Hunger and curiosity lingered in his beautiful eyes, which roamed her willowy figure, like a tiger's preying on a gazelle. 

She knew he was intoxicated and aroused by the exquisite wine, the sound of sultry music being played and the company of beautiful women he had enjoyed a little too long. He resembled her long lost lover in a lot of things besides appearance, and she felt the urge to grant him what he desired from her tonight. 

But she had already decided, she would deny him what he so badly craved, for after all, she wasn't one of his harlots, who would die for being the only one in his chambers tonight. Lamia had already given herself to him one time out of utter despair and need to drown out the emotional pain caused by Judar's hatred towards her. 

She desired him, too, longed to run her fingers over taunt muscle underneath golden skin and through his silken lavender locks, yet some things just have to be earned before being granted. And so she decided to pay attention to the rest of Sinbad's generals, who, unlike Yamraiha and Sharrkan, expressed mild, yet noticeable hostility towards her. 

There lay heavy suspicion and wariness in the ex assassin's viridian eyes as he observed her from afar. Even Spatos, whom she had already met in the Kou Empire, apparently eschewed her. Hinahoho acted polite towards her, but she could feel he didn't trust her. The only one who seemed to have taken a liking to her was a tipsy, petite blonde who kept telling her over and over again how beautiful and elegant she was. However, as adorable as the young woman might have seemed, she couldn't help disliking her since she reminded her of a certain pinkette whose guts she used to hate ever since she had first met her. 

Lamia took a sip of wine, not listening, mind elsewhere as Pisti rambled on. 

She felt another one's stare, a pair of large ocean eyes watching her with this curious awareness while Sinbad lectured the trio of children about Sindria, its foundation and past adventures, rambling on and on in his drunken state, just like his female general. 

The magi cast Aladdin a warning glance over her shoulder, locking eyes with the boy, who was a spitting image of her former lover's son, whom she used to love like her own, raised, nurtured and served when he was older. Grief and disappointment overcame her whenever she looked to intently at the boy; he reminded her of what Solomon had done to her, his betrayal and Sheba's disgusting unwavering support of his false decisions. 

If she hated Arba's guts, there were no words to describe how much she loathed Solomon and the gullible girl whose love had steered him into the wrong direction. 

Lamia had promised to serve her chosen king, but once Sinbad had reached his goals, Aladdin would close his eyes forever.

**.**


	10. 009

Sinbad's lavender hair sprawled down his sculpted back and onto royal blue sheets as he lay in bed, sound asleep and probably exhausted form the activities he had been engaged in earlier. The air was still thick with a woman's sweet perfume, intermingled with the subliminal smell of passion and arousal which lingered like remnants of burgundy on his bruised lips and scratch marks on his golden skin.

With his features soft, relaxed; wine stained lips slightly apart, her king looked almost as peaceful as a sleeping child. It seemed as if no ghosts were haunting him, whispering a tale of sins and crimes -- both past and present -- committed; no ghouls were latching onto him in his sleep, still clinging to him during the day and burdening him with guilt and shame of his hedonistic lifestyle.

King Sinbad was enjoying life to its fullest. Sin was just an alien concept to him, a word he didn't know; he was ruthless, bent on pleasure and still young enough to keep living fast and selfishly, always seeking for fulfillment of burning desires.

He was a king but no royal blood ran through his veins, yet Destiny had bestowed much greater gifts upon him than regal heritage, which were, despite the things he had accomplished, still unbeknown to him.

As his magi, Lamia would make sure to help him become the best version of himself, to make him another First Class Singularity, the perfect king vessel, who would one day render Destiny his mistress, controlling her, making her succumb to his radiance just like he did with anybody else.

Just like Fate, Destiny was a cruel mistress but even the most headstrong of women can be tamed, when being lured and seduced with the right amount of cunningness and charm.

Unlike Fate, Destiny lacked the tragedy of inevitability and was, therefore, easier to control.

A distant smile graced maroon lips as long nails raked through the entangled mess of violet hair, brushing back strands out of his handsome face. Just like the longing for belongingness, Nostalgia defined Lamia's existence. There was no shame in admitting she felt so drawn to Sinbad because he reminded her of David. Their resemblance was almost terrifying; from the minute she had first met her king's golden gaze, the image of her long-dead lover had crossed her mind and, ever since, lingered there (again) after what had felt like eons of forced repression to forget his face, his touch, his smell. From his features -- the angular jaw, straight nose, tiger-like eyes -- to his sculpted physique enveloped by flawless tanned skin, her king resembled the man she had adored, so much it hurt looking at him. Yet, the darkness clinging to David, embodied in his obsidian eyes and midnight hair, was outshone by Sinbad's radiance. His eyes were made from molten gold, gleaming with confidence and hope; his bright lavender hair always smelled of cinnamon, herbs -- a unique mixture of fragrances, whereas David's jet black locks had always smelled of incense, sage and ink from running his blue-dyed fingers through his hair in desperation after writing down his prophecies and revelations while she was lying in his bed, deprived of his touch.

Nostalgia is only pleasant as long as joyful moments come back to mind, but as soon as misery hits one's consciousness, one tends to relive hurtful memories.

A small grunt escaped Sinbad's lips as his eyes fluttered open, amber meeting ruby in dim candlelight.

"Arwa, what are you doing here?" He mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep and remnants of drunken laughter of tonight's festivities.

Startled, Lamia opened her mouth to speak. Her eyes fell upon her fingers still entangled in his hair, balled into a fist. "I - I", she withdrew her hand, trying to regain her poise, "I was just making sure you are alright. I mean after the amounts of liquor you've consumed tonight, I was worried you might suffer from alcohol poisoning." She lied, forcing a smile.

Still noticeably intoxicated, Sinbad sat clumsily up in bed, the silky blanket sliding down his torso. "Oh, I see." He said, speech a little slurred as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Usually it's Ja'far whose making sure I'm still alive. Didn't know I'd get another babysitter by finally earning the grace of a magi."

His chuckle made her feel awkward; it was embarrassing and -- even though not intended -- disgracing.

Eyes narrowed and voice laced with menace, she met his eyes once again. "Excuse my barging in on you like _this_. I was just worried, is all." she said in a stifled hiss as she rose from the edge of her king's bed.

"Now, now." Sinbad hummed, catching her slender, jewelry-adorned wrist. "I was only joking. There's no need to be offended."

His smile was dazzling, honey eyes gleaming with obvious passion as he pulled her towards his chest. "Why don't you just stay? We could repeat what we did back in the Kou?" He purred, wrapping a strong arm around her slim waist while burying his nose in her raven locks. "I guess I haven't told you yet, but I have to confess you're an exquisitely beautiful woman, Arwa." Calloused fingers sliding underneath the revealing front of her dress with ease, Sinbad's fingers fondled her breast with expertise he had gained from years of bedding countless enticing female creatures. "It was wonderful mistake, right? Why not repeat it and learn from it?" He breathed into her ear; his hot breath gracing the tender skin of her neck.

A soft mewl escaped her lips as his other hand traveled down south in between her thighs, gracing the outline of her private parts hidden underneath the silky, white fabric. Passion clouded her mind; need and want drove her to succumb to him, yet the stench of wine on his breath and the cheap perfume of other women on his skin got the best of her, rendering her disgusted rather than aroused.

"No." Lamia said firmly, gripping his wrist. "We shouldn't do this."

Perplexed and mildly angered, Sinbad let go off her in an instant. " _Why_?" he asked, a deep frown marring beautiful features as he recoiled.

The ravenette rose to her feet, smoothing down the skirt and readjusting the top part of her dress. " _I don't want you like this._ "

Sinbad pulled the blanket further up to cover his arousal from her wrathful stare in a haste, trying to prevent this situation from becoming any more awkward. "What do you mean 'you don't want me like this'?" he asked with a hardly stifled hiss. "You did want me last time."

Despite his lingering intoxication, he was apparently sober enough to remember, that even though he had been doused in other women's perfume and had remnants of liquor on his breath, it was her who sought his skin, starting all this, which would have been inevitable at one point in time anyway.

"This was different, okay?" Lamia yelled; all politeness and reserve gone. "I was miserable, seeking comfort because the one person I truly loved, the one person to whom I dedicated myself to, had rejected me that night. And it hurt, it hurt so much, I needed someone to alleviate the pain." The words spilled from her lips without premonition, tears accumulating at the corners of her eyes.

The king's features darkened; golden eyes now hard and dull as unpolished bronze. " _You came to me because you needed to drown out the memory of another man_?" His baritone voice was laced with anger and so much wounded pride it could've been easily mistaken for jealousy.

"No, no; you're mistaken." Ruby eyes wide and trembling with remnants of nostalgia, Lamia took a step towards him, trying to get a hold of his hand. "It's not what you think, _my king_. It was my son, not another man who confessed how much hates me."

"You have a son?" Anger turned into confused curiosity as he allowed her to touch his hand. "I didn't know."

Relief washed across the magi's features as she hesitantly sat down on her king's bed again, squeezing his large hand lightly. "This might sound confusing to you but please just hear me out. I'm quite aware you know Judar and of course, he isn't my own but I have always considered him my own blood, raising him as if he was my child." she explained. "I made some mistakes, he learned about and I don't blame him for hating me, yet I cannot help but to feel so miserable and forlorn."

Confusion soon turned into sympathy as Sinbad watched hot tears fall from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Arwa. I didn't know about that. Had I, I wouldn't have rea --

"No, it's not your fault." She said, wiping away shameful tears with the knuckle of her index finger, trying to prevent the kohl around her eyes from streaming down her cheeks. "My king, please just rest and forget about this. I am here to serve you and your kingdom, not to bother you with my personal troubles."

Her free hand cupped his face gently, sliding up his forehead as she gave a quick command to the rukh, making him drift off to sleep.

Everything which had just transpired would fortunately be forgotten in the morning.

**.**

The clicking of high-heeled sandals against marble tiles caught a certain blonde's attention as he sparred with is master, almost rendering him receiving a direct hit with his sword.

"I know, she's fine, right?" Sharrkan said with a mischievous smirk, withdrawing his weapon. "Yet, you shouldn't allow yourself to be distracted by the sight of a beautiful woman." He added, arms crossed and index finger erect as he nodded his head wildly. 

Alibaba's light brown eyes blinked in confusion. "Err, yes but actually --

"Arwa!" The general exclaimed as he caught her line of sight. "Nice to see you. Wanna spar?"

A challenging smile on burgundy lips, the magi confirmed his assumption with a wink. "Actually, yes." She said. "Unless you're still busy training your student."

"Nah, Alibaba's exhausted, anyway. So let's go ahead and do this."

The prince narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "I am not exhausted in the very slightest, Sharrkan."

"Don't act like you're tougher than you actually are in Sindria's magi's presence." Alibaba's teacher said in faux haughtiness. "Just hand her your sword, will ya?"

Amber eyes met Lamia's crimson ones in what equaled fearful hesitation. Ballbad's prince was Solomon's son's chosen king after all, which left him suspicious of her.

"His sword's a metal vessel, Sharr. I couldn't touch it without summoning his djinn, anyway." She sighed, rolling her eyes to the perfect blue sky. "Just hand me a regular sword."

Touching a single metal vessel residing (and there were a lot; with the boy's sword, eight to be exact) in this kingdom would mean her exposure and the death of her plan, for Solomon's former servants weren't exactly fond of her (except maybe Paimon with whom she had a quite _unique_ relationship). They might not know who Arba was hiding behind, but they all would recognize her in less than a second.

"Hey you over there." The bronze-skinned general yelled at one of Sindria's guards. "Hand the lady your sword."

Lamia accepted the weapon with a polite nod of her head before she put down her divine staff, approaching her sparring partner, striding with regal grace.

" _En guard._ " Sharrkan exclaimed.

They both occupied their stances, raising their swords.

"So, how you wanna win this, in them shoes?" Sharrkan snickered as he dodged Lamia's first strike.

"You'll see."

A quick step backwards, a swirl on her heel and she dodged his blow with ease, smirking contently. "Don't be hesitant, come at me with all you've got." She exclaimed, lips curled into a smirk, red eyes gleaming dangerously.

Sharrkan didn't falter a second and lunged forward, wielding his sword with both power and swiftness, he was well-known for.

"Not half-bad." He chuckled as he watched Lamia swerve quickly before lunging forward, sword raised high, aiming for a direct cut.

A knowing smirk graced his lips. "You're too predictable, hun."

Sword held horizontally at eye-level, he evaded her frontal attack, pushing her back with force, leaving her stumbling and wide open for a blow of his weapon. However, Lamia regained her stance quickly, smirking devilishly as she leaped to the side, brushing past her opponent with remarkable speed.

Alibaba watched in awe as his master turned around to dodge another blow the way he did before, however this time she held her sword low, apparently aiming for his leg. Sharrkan took a step backwards, quickly lowering his sword to evade the attack, but as soon as he did so, the tip of Lamia's blade was already resting at the fragile side of his throat as she had raised her sword diagonally with incredible swiftness and precision.

Emerald eyes blinked perplexedly as they met ruby ones, filled with a certain kind of wickedness, which left a small shiver run down his spine. As soon as the magi pulled away, however, the menacing sheen in her eyes vanished, being replaced by a satisfied expression.

"Wow, I'm impressed." The white-haired general said with a bright grin on his lips. "Did you hold back when we were sparring in the Kou?"

"Maybe I was." Lamia smirked, content that he seemed to acknowledge her fighting skills.

"Your master must be a legend. Have I ever hurt of him?"

Crimson eyes narrowed all of a sudden. "I suppose not and I believe you wouldn't want to." She said flatly, earning a look of slight confusion from her sparring partner. "And besides, I was taught by a woman."

The shuffling of feet and the clanking of heavy jewelry suddenly caught both their attention.

"Lord Sinbad!" said Alibaba as his eyes fell on the king and his vizier.

"Alibaba." His voice was soft and pleasant, his smile radiant as he approached. "Are you making progress?"

The young prince averted his eyes, smiling awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his head before he mustered the courage to meet the king's golden gaze with a look of embarrassment on his handsome face. 

"Well, I guess so, yet I'm still not able to do a full-on djinn equip."

Sinbad smiled kindly at him. "It's alright, don't pressure yourself."

A sigh of relief accidentally escaped the youth's lips.

"Besides, it's not even your fault, you're not making any progress."

Alibaba flinched slightly at Sinbad's change of demeanor, watching him cast both swordsmen a warning glance.

"If my general followed my orders instead of spending time sparring with my magi, whom I actually expect to be with Yamraiha in order to help her train Aladdin, your skills might have improved a little more, Alibaba." He said firmly, eyes hard and narrowed.

"Ah, come on, Sinbad." Sharrkan sighed, gem green eyes rolling up to the pavilion's intricately designed ceiling. "We were just enjoining ourselves while taking a break. Alibaba's been exhausted anyway."

The Saluja's rightful heir to the throne widened his eyes in utter disbelief, opening his mouth in protest, however his master's sharp stare silenced him before the blonde could utter even a single word.

"He doesn't look exhausted to me at all." The king said underneath his breath; disapproval of his general's casual attitude towards him clearly audible to everyone being present. "I assigned you to train Alibaba, help him to accomplish mastering a full on djinn equip, yet you rather spend time sparring with Arwa."

Dull amber eyes locked onto the magi's mischievously narrowed ruby ones. "I ordered you to train Aladdin." Sinbad said coldly. "What's your excuse?"

Lamia's aubergine lips curled upwards as she approached her king with sword in hand; it's blade lowered to the ground. " _Ennui_." The word rolled off her tongue with a certain kind of sensuality, Sinbad did not fail to notice. "Your royal magician teaches the little magi more than he can handle already, plus she's a much better mentor than I could ever be. So I was wondering how I could be of any use to the two of them."

The air was thick with something, Ja'far interpreted as danger, a certain menace to his king, as he watched Lamia walking towards them with feline elegance he had seen in many female assassins among the Sham Lash, rendering him to brace himself. He sensed wicked intention by only meeting a person's eyes, smelled evil in the most innocent looking, and knew the taste of malice, the intent to kill. And yet, despite receiving no sensation of wickedness, the vizier _knew_ she held ill intentions towards her and _his_ king.

The gentle movement of Sinbad's hand was enough for Ja'far to understand. He resumed his usual upright posture; freckled features immediately becoming as gentle and relaxed as before.

"You're aware I ordered you to mentor both Aladdin and Yamraiha, are you not?" The high king asked with a wicked smirk.

"I am, my king, yet I couldn't see why you'd do that. She's a remarkable magician, able to teach the boy more than I could at this point in time." She replied politely, being fully aware of his dissatisfaction with her defying his orders.

A smile graced her painted lips as she met his hard, golden stare. "I hope you can forgive my need for a little entertainment, my king."

Shaking his head slowly in what equaled unbelief, his features relaxed, a soft chuckle escaping lips curled upwards. "Of course. I'm glad you and Sharrkan are getting along so well." He said, smiling. "And from what I've seen the same goes for you and Yamraiha."

"Friends and allies are a wonderful thing." Lamia explained. "I'm aware I am not fully trusted by any single person close to you, yet I'm trying to earn their trust."

Her gaze fell on Ja'far, whose piercing green eyes held so much hostility towards her, she could almost taste it. "I have to gain your generals acceptance and loyalty in order to serve you to the best of my ability, my lord."

Sinbad cast a quick, warning side glance at his vizier. "I suppose you are right."

Ja'far's deep green eyes went soft and gentle as the rest of his youthful face as he bowed his head. "I suppose my former profession renders me suspicious of everyone, I haven't gotten to know properly. Excuse my rudeness, Lady Arwa."

The king refocused his attention back on Alibaba Saluja, who was the reason he had come to the palace's private garden in the first place. "Alibaba, would you come with me. I need to talk to you in private." 

Being a little startled by Sinbad speaking his name, the boy's brown eyes widened slightly. "Yes, of course." 

A regal movement of the king's hand beckoned him to follow him and Ja'far into his studies, to which he obeyed without hesitating. 

"Arwa, I still need you to see how Aladdin's doing." Sinbad ordered, meeting her ruby eyes as he cast one last glance over his shoulder. "Unlike Sharrkan, you still have the chance to obey and follow my orders." 

His voice was laced with mockery, yet the menace was not hard to notice, leaving Sharrkan flinching slightly at his Lord's words. 

"I will, my king."


	11. 010

_David_ _sits_ _at_ _the_ _the_ _head_ _of_ _the_ _semicircular_ _table, reading_ _another_ _of_ _his_ _written_ _down_ _prophecies_ _or_ _revelations_ _to_ _the_ _Orthodox_ _Church's_ _council,_ _consisting_ _of_ _only_ _male_ _magicians_ _, who, for_ _the_ _largest_ _part, are old_ _men_ _with_ _long white_ _beards_ _and_ _faded_ _gray_ _eyes,_ _fixated_ _on_ _their_ _chairman's_ _imposing_ _form_ _. He is no_ _King_ _but_ _his_ _attire_ _is not_ _less_ _splendid_ _;_ _instead_ _of_ _a_ _crown_ _a_ _bejeweled_ _miter_ _adorns_ _his_ _head_ _and_ _his_ _sun-kissed_ _skin is_ _clothed_ _in_ _layers_ _of_ _liturgical_ _vestments_ _instead_ _of_ _colorful_ _satin and_ _silk_ _._

_Rumor has it,_ _that_ _,_ _before_ _David_ _held_ _the_ _office_ _of_ _the_ _Church's_ _leader, he_ _once_ _had_ _been_ _a_ _King_ _,_ _ruling_ _over_ _magicians_ _and_ _the_ _lower_ _species_ _,_ _until_ _God_ _revealed_ _himself_ _to_ _him, rendering David_ _to_ _question_ _his_ _faith_ _in_ _the_ _merely_ _secular_ _and_ _establishing_ _this_ _cult_ _in_ _the_ _name_ _of_ _Il_ _Illah_ _, in order_ _to_ _praise_ _and_ _worship_ _Him._

_" ... and I_ _saw_ _the_ _dead,_ _the_ _great and_ _the_ _small, standing_ _before_ _the_ _throne, and_ _books_ _were_ _opened_ _; and_ _another_ _book_ _was_ _opened_ _,_ _which_ _is_ _the_ _book_ _of_ _life; and_ _the_ _dead_ _were_ _judged_ _from_ _the_ _things_ _which_ _were_ _written_ _in_ _the_ _books_ _,_ _according_ _to_ _their_ _deeds_ _."_

_His_ _deep_ _voice_ _rumbles_ _,_ _echoing_ _off_ _the_ _marble_ _pillars_ _,_ _filling_ _everyone's_ _ears_ _and_ _hearts_ _._

_Arba's_ _eyes_ _glisten_ _with_ _a_ _layer_ _of_ _tears_ _, her features are soft and_ _serene_ _as_ _she_ _listens_ _,_ _with_ _hands_ _folded_ _over_ _her_ _chest, to David's revelation, which holds no significance, no meaning at all for Lamia.  
_

_Cleric or King -- she doesn't really care what he represents, what he's referred to, if he preaches or rules; all she cares about is being near him, all she craves is his unwavering attention, his touch and devotion; in fact, all she wants is his unconditional love._

_Lamia knows she's a fool for wanting the impossible, for David is incapable of feeling profound emotions other than sheer hatred. Delicate, fragile feelings such as Love or Sympathy are unbeknown to him; the concept of Empathy, practically doesn't exist in his world.  
_

_And yet, Lamia hopes, she is wrong. As they say, Hope and Belief die last, even if your rational mind has long since given up.  
_

_A single tear rolls down Arba's cheek, intermingling with the kohl liner around her light brown eyes as she keeps on listening to David's religious rant, Lamia still doesn't give a damn about. If asked, she couldn't even tell what he's talking about, because she simply doesn't understand. Of course she doesn't lack intellect, it's pure indifference keeping her from opening her mind up to his preachings. He speaks about Destiny, God, the Divine and Wicked, Sinners, Saints, Inferiority of other species, Superiority of mankind, drawing comparisons and using metaphors which don't reach her. It's way beyond her ability to comprehend what Arba, the council and every single magician feel when hearing David's revelations.  
_

_Crimson eyes narrow in hostility as they fall upon the brunette standing next to her, now shedding tears of pure bliss while listening.  
_

_" ... she has been lost for so long, she is almost dead; doused in easily inflammable liquids and only waits for her quietus."  
_

_Another simile spilling from David's lips, but it's the first one in a very long time, catching Lamia's attention.  
_

_The women's eyes lock, and she could swear amidst the dim candlelight, derision is ablaze in Arba's usually kind brown eyes._

_"This world has always been mendacious, has never been pure. She's defeated, ready to die and I let her die, for I know she is meant to."_

_Relief washes over Lamia's face like ecstasy washes over all believers, being present in the room.  
_

_David is referring to this rotten world, tainted by disgusting creatures roaming Ill Illah's lands, demanding freedom, a concept of equality and plain old tranquility and peace, which they are (of course) unworthy of.  
_

_Funny that, Lamia would later learn the world will always remain rotten, for the one who runs it -- no matter how noble their cause -- , always ends up failing miserably, since Destiny herself is infallibly steadfast.  
_

_Arba averts her gaze, drying her tears with the fabric of her skirt as David finally rises from his seat, the council following suit, bowing their heads deeply as he leaves the room.  
_

_Heels click against marble, as Lamia turns to leave without granting her fellow magician another fleeting glance or word.  
_

_She feels her piercing gaze -- not yet malicious but mocking -- on her tanned skin, penetrating her being, like she's able to see into her very soul. Arba knows she loves him unconditionally, worships him like she praises her God, and is so, so aware of the irony in this ridiculous game.  
_

_God or man; honest devotion, sincere worship remains a losing game as long as there's no payback for one's sacrifice.  
_

_What did Ill Ilah do for Arba? What has David ever given Lamia?  
_

_False promises, leading to faux hopes, kindling naive believes -- nothing more and nothing less._

_Lamia chases after him until she gets a hold of his bejeweled wrist.  
_

_His narrowed dark eyes and disdainful smile say more than the words 'what do you want' could ever express when spoken aloud in sincere mockery, yet she seizes his lips with devout passion, kissing him in front of  everyone's eyes._

_Their gazes lock, as Lamia backs away slightly, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes filled with passion, longing and unfulfilled desire. The words spill from her lips without premonition, unexpected and much more desperate than she has intended. They are a confession of unwavering devotion.  
_

_"I love you."  
_

_There's this flicker in his eyes as David leans into her, lips curled up slightly. Tenderly, he brushes a stray strand behind her ear. Amidst the dimly lit hall, his features appear soft and almost loving, the flicker in his coal eyes seems to be one of genuine joy.  
_

_But of course it isn't.  
_

_He pulls away, giving her another of these condescending smiles; his eyes are gleaming with cruel awareness as he chuckles darkly.  
_

_"I know, Lamia. I know."_

**.**

Ever since the battle in Ballbad, ghosts lingered on Judar's mind like the haunting memories of Lamia's kindness, her smiles and the fondness in her eyes whenever she looked at him. The woman had raised him, taught him all she knew about magic and spells, had pampered and spoiled him rotten. 

She had cared for him, nurtured him like a mother, even though he wasn't her child. 

When he was younger, Judar had even considered her his mother, despite being fully aware of the fact she was not. As he got older, he started seeing her more like an older sister, who guided and taught, not only giving lectures on magic, but on life itself. 

Regardless of whether the boy had called her mother, sister or mentor, she had always been the only family he knew, and had considered as such, despite growing up with the Kou's princes and princesses, who had always made him feel like he was one of them. 

If he came to think of his childhood superficially, the young magi couldn't deny he had been lucky growing up in luxury, being raised with love and care, always being granted every wish, no matter how ridiculous it had been. Yet, looking a little closer, digging a little deeper, the ugly truth revealed itself.

The rituals had been exhausting and painful, the cloaked figures and veiled faces of men and women surrounding him, horrifying. Sage, incense, myrrh and the stench of other herbs flooded his nostrils while they manipulated his rukh, slowly tainting him black. 

Judar had been terribly afraid of these rituals and sermons, yet he knew it would always be okay in the very end, for he would wake up in Lamia's arms, drenched in sweat, with his fringe sticking to his forehead; cheeks burning up as if he had a fever. She had been there, holding him, whispering soothing words and rocking him to sleep. However, sometimes, he would look up into a pair of soft green eyes instead of red ones, as he slowly awoke. The ginger-haired woman used to sing to him, gently cooling his sweaty forehead with a wet cloth a she hummed a pleasant melody. He had tried to remember her name a dozen of times, yet it had vanished from his mind along time ago, vanished like the affection he always held in his heart for the woman who helped him become strong and powerful, who made him one of the four mightiest magicians existing in this world. 

He was born a magi, yet without her guidance and mentorship, he wouldn't have been where he is today. 

However, the images in his head haunted him. This little fuck of a magi had tainted his mind by unraveling the truth with some absurd power, he didn't possess before. 

Filled with wrath, the youth threw the remnants of a peach at kids of noblemen, playing gleefully in the palace's beautiful garden, fortunately failing miserably to hit one of them without them even noticing. 

"Fuck." Judar cursed bitterly, ripping another peach from a  branch of the tree he was sitting in. He was so filled with wrath and hatred, he felt like he was bursting at the seams. His whole life had been a lie, the affection given to him, the love, feigned and nothing but an act, a goddamn farce. He felt used and betrayed, toyed with and emotionally abused by her, whom he had always trusted unconditionally. 

She was a liar, a mendacious bitch, who had robbed him of honest, genuine love his real family would have offered him, replacing it with faux affection just so she could make him hers, her possession, her property.

_"Arwa has always coveted what belongs to others and would do anything in her power to take it away from them, only to get her hands on it."_

The Empress' words came back to mind as he licked the peach's juice off his sticky fingers.

_"Granted, she was thinking rationally; a magi like you, my dear, belongs with his kind, but there would have been less stringent measures then slaughtering your parents and an entire village just to make you serve the Kou Empire as our Oracle. We would've needed you sooner or later anyway, but the Emperor would have never ordered the murder of innocents in order to convince your parents of handing you over to the Empire. "_

Ren Gyokuen, third wife of the current Emperor Ren Koutoku, window of his brother, the former Emperor Ren Hakutoku, mother of four children, two living, two dead, wasn't exactly a trustworthy woman. 

_"Stay away from the Emperor's wife, Judar. She isn't as kind as she may seem."_ Lamia used to tell him over and over again when he was still a child. _"Don't you ever trust a single word leaving her lips, for she's a lying witch."  
_

It was rather sad how long it took irony to finally reveal itself to him. _Who was the lying witch, now_? Eighteen years of his life taken from him, eighteen years of living a lie; he was still so young, yet it didn't change the fact, his childhood had been wasted on a woman, who considered him her property. 

_"As much as I have always appreciated Arwa's service as both my royal magician and right-hand woman, I should have acted sooner, taking you away from her. She has been using you, only to fill a void in her heart. You poor child; you've always been just a replacement for someone entirely else."_

Gyokuen's voice was saccharine poison, dripping form her perfectly painted red lips, tainting his mind in the same way, Lamia did. Rumor still had it, the Empress murdered her former husband and her eldest sons by setting them on fire and leaving her youngest child, Ren Hakuryuu with severe burns and a blind eye. 

The magi had always considered the younger boy a psychotic mess for seeking revenge, for only  living and breathing for the mere purpose of slitting his mother's throat, now, however, he finally came to understand why Hakuryuu longed to see her dead. 

Both women were exactly the same and deserved to die for what they had done.

Strangely, all of a sudden, taking revenge didn't seem so ridiculous anymore. 

**.**

Ithnan downed the contents of his glass in one large swig before he met the Empress' bright blue eyes. 

"You let Lamia leave just like that?" He asked, being literally thunderstruck by Arba's composure. 

"Of course I did. What else would you have wanted me to do?" She said, nonchalantly, shrugging her petite shoulders. "Should I have tried to kill her?" 

"Are you kidding me, Arba?" The magician shouted, slamming the wine glass down with force, making it splinter as it hit the long mahogany table. "She allied with Sinbad, which means she joined forces with the Kingdom of Sindria, making her our enemy." Green eyes narrowed dangerously and jawline tense, Ithnan met the magi's equally dangerous gaze. "You know what a singularity is capable of." He hissed. "And combined with a magi, whose magic comes close to yours, Sindria and it's king pose an even greater threat to both Al-Thamen and the Kou. You're a fool for having refrained from killing her the moment you had the chance to."

A wicked smile formed on her red lips. "You better watch your tongue, dear Ithnan, before I cut it off." She hummed serenely but casting him a death stare, which rendered the green-haired magician to recoil slightly. "Tell me, how was I supposed to kill her without destroying this empire entirely? And even if I did, how could her death ever be beneficial to the organization?" Arba asked, cocking her pretty head. "I know Lamia better than any one of you ever did. I know her better than Solomon and even Elder David did." She added while pouring herself another glass of Merlot, watching her fellow magician's features twist into an expression of disgust at hearing her speaking the last individuals name out loud. "She'll come back soon, believe me." 


	12. 011

 

      **Sinbad** rolled off her with a satisfied moan escaping bruised lips after he'd finished the act both of them had grown to enjoy way too much. Deep down he knew, this was wrong in so many ways, since she was not only his magi but a member of his council, which put her on the same footing as his generals. They were supposed to maintain a professional relationship, but, oh well, here they were again exchanging body heat in between silken sheets and sharing Lamia's bed the umpteenth time since she followed him to Sindria.  

But what's a boy to do if he's enticed by an enchanting female creature? 

Tilting his head to the side to meet her crimson gaze, Sinbad posed the question he had wanted to ask for so long. 

"Did you ever feel like what we're doing is wrong?"

His words left his mouth in his usually nonchalant tone of voice, stripping it off all its profound allusion. 

Lamia smirked delicately, yet somewhat wickedly at him as she sat up in bed, so she was looking down upon her king. "In all honesty, yes, I did." She said, reaching for the blanket to cover her nudity. "But even if it is, does it matter to you?" 

Golden eyes (the most gorgeous pairs of eyes she'd ever seen) narrowed in their trademark seductiveness as her king locked onto her gaze. 

"No; actually no, it doesn't." 

The indifference conveyed by his words was clear as day, which not even the most simple-minded person could fail to notice, yet still, leaving Lamia slightly wondering why he'd raised the question in the first place. But then again, she knew what kind of man he was; Sinbad never actually questioned his actions, and just like David, he didn't care about whatever outcome his decisions may entail. 

"Have you actually been aware of the fact most of your generals are more than wary of me, my king?" 

Sinbad rolled his enticing eyes to the ornamented ceiling above in annoyance. "How many times did I tell you to refrain form being so formal when we're like _this_?" He said, rising into a sitting position. "It feels just so strange." 

Ignoring his complaint entirely, Lamia asked him once more. "Have you been aware?" 

"Yes, maybe some of them are not really fond of you, but Yamraiha and Sharrkan have quite taken a liking to you and so has Pisti. But can you blame them? You've been part of the Organization and threatened to kill us back in Ballbad. So what did you expect?"  Sinbad spoke with a humorless chuckle. 

"You don't fully trust me, either." The ravenette stated plainly. "And if so, shouldn't they mistrust their king too, for he has brought an enemy into his own kingdom?" 

A wicked smirk graced Sinbad's lips. "What makes you think I don't trust you, Arwa?" He hummed as he snaked his arm around her small waist, pulling her onto his lap, so she was straddling him. "I trust you with this, isn't that enough?"

Alluring and enticing as he was, Lamia couldn't help hiding the sarcasm. "You trust every woman you bed, which makes me doubt the weighed of your word, my king." 

His calloused hands (a sign that he wasn't in fact royalty by blood) gripped her waist, guiding her body further down to meet his growing erection once more that night. Ecstatic moans filled the air once they met in the middle; him sliding into her like it was the most natural thing, he'd ever done.

"Does this still make you doubt my honesty?" Sinbad asked in between lust-filled moans as he gripped her derriere, hard, heaving her up only to slam her down again at a pace he enjoyed. 

Of course she was unable to reply, lost in pleasure and lust, rendered speechless, which he was so well aware of, as her fingers interlaced with his lavender locks and her lips kissed the outline of his perfectly shaped jawline. 

Another thrust upwards left Lamia mewling before he tipped her willowy body over; her back hitting the sheets with him on top of her, resuming the pace he'd set for this questionable tryst.

Lips locking, teeth gracing sun-kissed skin, fingers tearing at purple and midnight strands in heated frenzy in between dim candlelight, was all which transpired next, filling the room with panting and labored breathing.

Whoever came first, didn't matter, for both lovers, were beyond exhausted, as Sinbad finally collapsed on top of her for the second time that night. 

"Still doubtful?" Sinbad finally managed to speak underneath his heavy breathing, gripping her jawline, the tips of his fingers interlacing loosely with her mess of raven locks. 

A weak smile on her pale lips, Lamia sidled away from underneath him, rolling onto her stomach and flipping her hair over her shoulder in a more sensual way than she'd intended to, which rendered Sinbad smirking, snaking an arm around her lower waist as he rolled onto his stomach, too. 

"The night's still young, you know?" 

"You're greedy, my king." 

Confusion bled into his features; true and honest confusion marred the regal lines of his handsome face, for her voice wasn't either laced with sarcasm nor mockery, but with sincere blame, Sinbad found rather odd and out of place and context, regarding the sultry night they'd shared. 

The magi was an enigma to him, a contradiction in herself in the way she acted, carried and presented herself when interacting with people, switching moods and facial expressions in the blink of an eye. He had seen her drinking, laughing and dancing with Sharrkan and Yamraiha at this year's Maharajan, had seen her poised, yet polite when conversing with Ja'far and those, who were rather suspicious of her, and had had her trembling underneath him, rendering her to expose the most raw and vulnerable side of her as carnal desire had taken its hold of her. 

And yet, through it all, this wicked gleam in her ruby eyes was omnipresent, as was this unnerving sensuality surrounding her, deriving from Depravity clinging to her like the scent of sandalwood and jasmine. 

"Oh, am I?" Sinbad said with a light-hearted chuckle, removing his hand from around her lower waist.

"Did your vizier never tell you?"

"Ja'far?" 

He rolled onto his back again, before sitting up in bed, tailor-fashion, reaching for his goblet of wine still standing on the nightstand. "Actually no. He keeps telling me I should refrain from drinking and fooling around with the ladies, but he never told me I was greedy." Sinbad said rather indifferently from behind the rim of his cup. 

"I'm not only talking about your activities in bed. It's your nature in general, which I'm referring to." Lamia spoke soberly, devoid of all lingering heat and passion, which had transpired only a few moments earlier, earning a narrow-eyed glance from her king. "You've accomplished so much, endured so much misery to build this wonderful kingdom of yours, and yet, it's still not enough. Doesn't this make you avaricious in some way?" 

His eyes (oh, these beautiful, beautiful eyes she longed to drown in) turned shades darker, becoming the color of weathered copper. "I'm striving after something greater than this, which I thought you of all people would understand the most, since you're a magi. Maybe this makes me greedy in your eyes, _my magi_ ", Sinbad told her coldly before emptying his goblet in one large gulp, "but actually I'm just avid for change and ridding this world of an organization you were part of only a few months ago."

A devilish smirk formed on lipstick-smeared lips. "Oh, you remind me of somebody I used to know."

"I see." He smirked, mimicking her expression. "Does his name happen to be David?"

Ruby eyes went wider than the moon; mouth a gape, Lamia wanted to reply but he cut her short.

"No need to explain yourself. His name rolls off your tongue every so often while we're having sex." 

.

Judar had long since been looking for a king's candidate, but even though the Kou had to offer so many of them, no one had piqued his interest as of yet. Granted, Ren Kouen was the perfect specimen of a king vessel, but his strive for power didn't match with what Judar's desire for war and mayhem entailed. And his younger brother, Koumei -- an intellectual and strategist -- was such a bore, committing suicide seemed like the more appealing option. Kouha had potential in the magi's eyes, yet his adoration for his eldest brother disgusted him to the point he felt like vomiting. Hakuei, though being a fierce and strong-willed woman, had too much fine sentiments for Judar's taste. And Kougyoku; sweet, innocent Kougyoku and dear childhood friend was just _not_ the right choice. 

His only option had always been Sinbad.

Sinbad. Sinbad. Sinbad. 

Sinbad, whose innate power and talent equaled to none, King Sinbad who didn't share, nor understood  the dark magi's lust for --

_For what exactly?_

Power? Superiority? Ruling the World? 

Well, no; not exactly, because he already had all that. 

Why would he need more power if he didn't know what to do with it? Superiority was what defined him, for he was a magi. And the desire to rule the world? Hell, the Kou was the most powerful empire the world had ever seen. 

And yet, he wanted more. 

Judar had always thought, as his chosen king, Sinbad could show him things never seen before as they conquered the world together, tearing nations down and rebuilding the world as they pleased. But oh, how wrong he had been.

Sinbad had always foolishly denied the youth's offer to serve him and his kingdom to the best of his abilities, despite knowing the black magi could always have been of great value to Sindria, yet refusing to side with him for reasons long since forgotton; lingering feuds rendered irrelevant by time. 

How ironic that the righteous conqueror of the seven seas, the benevolent ruler Sinbad himself, had chosen to ally with a traitorous, lying snake, whose fangs must've sunken deep into his golden skin; their venom seeping into his very flesh. 

So as it turned out, Sinbad was an imbicile, too easily lured by a woman's salacious charm, leaving the youth with no option other than to wait for someone worthy of his service. If the king of Sindria didn't want him, he might just as well die alongside that bitch, who had stolen so many years of his young life. 

Judar heard someome sweetly calling his name as he angrilgy sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of the peach in his hand. A look over his shoulder revealed the Empress, followed by two of her magicians approaching the tree he was sitting leisurelyin, with his legs crossed at the ankle and lithe back leaning against thetrunk. 

An involuntary expression of annoyance, intermingled with slight disgust flooded the youth's pretty features as his eyes fell upon Gyokuen's petite form, leaving him with no desire to devour the juicy peach sticking to his palm and nimble fingers. Throwing the half-eaten fruit away, the dark magi plummeted gracefully to the ground like a cat.

"Ms. Gyokuen." He said with a wide grin on pale lips. "What can I do for you?"

A coquettish smile, so out of place, formed on crimson lips as clear blue eyes locked onto ruby ones. "My dear Judar, I'm so happy to see you, my child!"

The tone of her voice was saccharine; so artificially sweet it sent a cold chill down the magi's spine.

"I have an important mission for you." Arba spoke, covering her face with the sleeve of her gown. "An important mission, which I know won't be easy for you to pull through, yet I need you to go to Sindria and bring back our fugitive magi. Look, my dear, I am aware of what she's been to you and even more aware of what she's done to you, but the Kou and I need her. Therefore I want you to lure her into returning to this empire."

Ruby eyes turned a shade darker as they narrowed, sticky lips becoming a thin, hard line, curling upwards in something akin to disgust.

"Arwa never meant shit to me." Judar chuckled darkly, with arms outstretched, palms pointing to the cloudless sky above. "She's always been just another hag, dictating and telling me what to and what not to do, yet if you want me to bring her back, I want something in exchange."

"What do you want, my dear boy?" The empress asked with such sweet malevolence in her voice, Judar couldn't help flinching.

He cleared his throat, regaining his posture. "I want Sinbad dead."

"Wish granted." Arba said as she turned to leave. "Do whatever you want with the first class singularity and the kingdom of Sindria, as long as you bring your _mothe_ r back."


	13. 012

 

_Lamia_ _has_ _witnessed_ _many_ _of_ _his_ _wives_ _come_ _and go, has_ _attended_ _seven_ _marriages_ _in total,_ _which_ _have_ _left_ _her_ _heart-broken_ _and_ _shaken_ _to_ _her_ _very_ _core_ _,_ _every_ _time_ _anew_ _, even_ _though_ _she_ _has_ _always_ _known_ _not a single one_ _of_ _these_ _women_ _meant_ _as_ _much_ _to_ _him_ _as_ _she_ _,_ _herself_ _does_ _._

_Yet_ _,_ _the_ _wonderful_ _news_ _have_ _hit her_ _like_ _a blow_ _to_ _her face._

_The_ _door_ _to_ _David's_ _chamber's_ _fly_ _open_ _with_ _a_ _loud_ _bang,_ _heels_ _angrily_ _clicking_ _against_ _the_ _marble-tiled_ _floor_ _as_ _the_ _ravenette_ _enters_ _the_ _room_ _in long, elegant_ _strides_ _; a look_ _of_ _pure rage_ _on_ _her_ _pretty_ _face._

_"_ _Why_ _?"_ _She_ _cries_ _,_ _seething_ _with_ _anger; her_ _blood_ _boiling_ _with_ _hurt and_ _pain_ _and so, so_ _much_ _jealousy_ _. "_ _Why_ _did_ _everybody_ _else_ _know_ _before_ _I_ _did_ _? David,_ _why_ _wouldn't_ _you_ _tell me --_

_A_ _death_ _stare_ _stops_ _her dead in her tracks,_ _leaving_ _her_ _with_ _a_ _cold_ _shiver_ _running_ _down her_ _lithe_ _spine_ _._

_He_ _walks_ _up_ _to_ _her,_ _his_ _heavy_ _robes_ _rustling_ _with_ _every_ _movement_ _,_ _until_ _he_ _comes_ _to_ _a halt_ _right_ _in_ _front_ _of_ _her;_ _obsidian_ _eyes_ _hard_ _,_ _cold_ _as_ _his_ _ink-stained_ _fingers_ _brush_ _back_ _loose_ _strands_ _of_ _black_ _hair._

_"_ _Why_ _would_ _I tell_ _you_ _first,_ _when_ _I am_ _aware_ _you're_ _the_ _one who_ _suffers_ _the_ _most_ _knowing_ _?"_

_The_ _fingers_ _lingering_ _on_ _her_ _cheek_ _and_ _jawline_ _feel_ _so warm,_ _when_ _in_ _fact_ _they_ _are so cool_ _to_ _the_ _touch_ _._

_Lamia_ _puts her_ _delicate_ _hand_ _upon_ _his_ _,_ _ruby_ _eyes_ _clouded_ _with_ _a_ _thin_ _layer_ _of_ _fresh_ _tears_ _. "_ _Because_ _I_ _deserve_ _to_ _know_ _, David. I love_ _you_ _,_ _you_ _know_ _\-- ,"_ _She_ _sighs_ _,_ _being_ _on_ _the_ _verge_ _of_ _tears_ _, "I_ _deserve_ _to_ _know_ _the_ _man I love_ _with_ _all_ _my_ _heart_ _has_ _finally_ _begotten_ _the_ _heir_ _he has_ _wanted_ _to for so long."_

_"Why are you crying, Lamia?" David says coldly as his fingers find their way into her dark hair, interlacing with her locks._

_"Because I always wanted to give a child to you!" Tears spill from her eyes like an avalanche but her emotions find no sympathy._

_"But you couldn't and most certainly, you can't."  His voice is raw, void of empathy as the grip in her hair tightens. "Bearing my child is simply not the purpose, Destiny has chosen for you and there is nothing you can do about it. Destiny has a plan for all of us; has our lives dictated and predetermined from the day we were born."_

_Her eyes tremble underneath his almost crazed stare, her neck beginning to hurt from being forced to look up at him as he pulls at her strands even harder._

_"I can see the flow of Destiny very clearly, Lamia. It is constantly revealing itself to me in visions and dreams, telling me what and what not to do. I didn't marry that woman, because I wanted to, I did because I needed to." David tells her in a clinical, yet threatening tone of voice. "I hope I made myself clear enough, that you have no reason to display jealousy nor spilling tears for something so unimportant."_

_His words pierce like a knife into her very heart, leaving her hurting more than ever before._

_"To be perfectly honest, your tears and the expression on your face disgust me." David adds, finally letting go off her hair. "I didn't create you to make a pathetic fool of yourself, crying and wailing when she doesn't get what she wants." A slight sneer etches itself into his handsome features; his nose crinkling in distaste. "You've always been my favorite, it's  up to you, if it stays that way." A warning that pulls at her heartstrings even more, hitting her with cruel awareness of how easily she could be replaced by another._

_"I'm sorry, David." Lamia says, trying hard to suppress her tears. "It won't happen again, I promise."_

_"Good." He nods his head before he turns around, heading for his heavy oak-wood desk. "Now leave, I have important things to do."_

_"Of course." The words roll humbly off her tongue as she bows her head slightly, even though he has already turned his back to her. "I'm leaving."_

_The shuffling of robes and feet stop her. "One more thing, Lamia." He says with a smile on his lips; his voice almost sounding kind in comparison to how he has spoken before. David stops right in front of her, his expression darkening so suddenly, she did not see him raising his hand against her._

_Searing pain floods her cheek as the palm of his hand collides with the side of her face, hitting so hard one of her golden loop earrings is sent flying to the ground._

_"If you ever dare to burst in my private chambers again like this, yelling and screaming at me in such unspeakable disrespect, I'll have you punished. Do I make myself clear?"_

_His voice roars like thunder, the walls and pillars reverberating with it, rendering Lamia frozen in her spot, hand on her cheek and eyes wide as she nods her head. "Yes, forgive me, please. I swear to you, I'll never disrespect you ever again." She vows with conviction._

_"I take you at your word." He warns, charcoal eyes narrowed dangerously. "Now leave, I have no further use for you right now."_

_**.** _

_"Don't lie to me, Lamia. I know Elder David did that to you." Arba speaks quietly while gently pressing a pack of ice against the ravenette's left cheek. "Just tell me why he did it."_

_"Ah, shut up! I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Lamia spits pulling away from the other woman's touch. "You already know what all this is about; you always seem to know everything, so don't act like you're all sympathetic towards me, acting as if you're interested in the way I feel." The words leave her mouth in a dry chuckle, which soon turns into an expression of pain, since her cheek and jaw hurt from curling her burgundy lips up into a smirk._

_"Believe it or not, I actually do care." The brunette says with conviction that catches Lamia's attention. "I know the two of us are not always seeing eye to eye, fight and tease each other a lot, but are we not friends in the very end?" Arba asks with a kind smile on her pretty face, as she puts her delicate hand upon the other woman's injured cheek. "I know you like to think I'm jealous of your relationship with Elder David, when in fact I'm not. I don't begrudge you for being his favorite out of all his wives and lovers for quite some time now."_

_Confusion washes across Lamia's features at hearing her fellow magician's friendly words, and she opens her mouth to retort, wanting to slap the other's hand away from her face, but the alleviating feeling of Arba's magic takes away the pain in her burning cheek, rendering her to close her ruby eyes._

_"I know you don't want to hear it, but we're similar in so many ways."_

_"Then tell me, if you think we are so alike, did you love him, too?" The ravenette asks, curiosity audible in her voice as she meets Arba's large fawn eyes._

_She shakes her head slowly. "No, I don't think so. Infatuation it was, for sure -- you know how he can be if you please him -- but it was never love I felt for him." She explains softly, with that usual serene air surrounding her. "Elder David doesn't care for love, he only cares for admiration and submission, and as much as I admired and still respect him, I could never make myself love him."_

_"I see." Lamia mumbles underneath her breath, leaning a little more into Arba's touch. "So I assume you're not upset about the fact he's having a child with this new wife of his?"_

_"No, I am not, but I know how much you are." Smiles Arba as she puts her other hand upon Lamia's right cheek, lifting her head to make her meet her light brown eyes. "Listen to me, Lamia. I really want to be your friend. I know you are hurting and I want to help you get through that pain."_

_She cannot help but frown at the brunette's kindness towards her. "What are you saying? You don't make sense at all."_

_"David doesn't care about his child's mother, and he probably won't care very much about the child, too --_

_"How do you even dare uttering something so preposterous?" Lamia hisses quietly, yet fiercely underneath her breath as she grips Arba's thin wrists tightly. "If David hears you speaking about him that way, he'll probably have you executed. What's gotten into you, Arba? You've always been so devout and loyal not only to your God but David too. What on earth happened?"_

_"You know I'm right, Lamia. He is the only one who sees Destiny, and if it had not shown him, he needed an heir so badly, he would have never begotten one."  She explains, holding onto the other woman's beautiful face like a vice, even though the grip around her wrists starts to hurt. "Can you really imagine Elder David looking lovingly down upon a newborn without already having seen its fate and how it'll serve him?"_

_"You have a point." Lamia sighs, releasing her grip around the other woman's slender wrists and averting her gaze._

_"Look at me." Arba demands. "You and I are the two persons David trusts the most. We are closer to him than the men of his council, his remaining wives and concubines, know him much better and are capable of interpreting his every mood."_

_"What are you getting at?" Lamia's patience starts growing thinner by the minute, for she doesn't understand what her fellow magician is trying to tell her. She is still hurt and confused by David's violence against her, and Arba's cryptic way of talking won't make any of it better._

_"If you want his child so badly, take it." Brown eyes gleam with cruel determination Lamia has never seen before; her facial expression is unusually hard and serious as she leans forward with both her hands still resting upon the other's jawline, literally sitting at the edge of her seat. "He won't care who is going to raise the child as long as it serves its purpose."_

_"How can you be so sure?"_

_"You know him all to well, Lamia."_

_The ravenette bites her burgundy-painted lower lip. "I guess you're right."_

_Another soft smile spreads slowly over Arba's lips. "Let us take care of Elder David's child together, raise him or her to become a kinder person, who is able to show mercy when necessary and sees true justice instead of Destiny."_

_"You're speaking treason."_

_"I'm speaking the truth. Elder David is stealing power from God, I can feel it, for he is getting weaker." Tears accumulate at the corner of her eyes. "Tell me one good reason why the two of us should let him raise his child to do the same, become like his own father and hurt God even further? You want his son or daughter, I want our Father to thrive and flourish. So tell me, isn't this the best we could do?"_

_For a split-second Lamia falters, but the weight of Arba's words is unbearable, the wisdom and truth behind them undeniable, but suspicion still leaves her doubting._

_"How do I know I can trust you?"_

_Arba leans forward in her seat, her fingers brushing back strands of midnight hair before she presses a chaste kiss upon the other woman's lips._

_"Deep down you know you can, because I think you are aware that I have nothing to lose."_

**.**

Concerned ruby eyes watched Sindria's royal magician bandage up Sinbad's curse mark, spreading from the left side of his face, all the way down to his left shoulder and parts of his torso.

"I stopped the curse with my magic, but I'm not quite sure how long it will last." The blue-haired mage said worriedly, almost apologetically as she cut the gauze, tying the ends together. "However, whatever you do, my king, refrain from using your Djinn Equipment."

Sinbad smiled reassuringly at Yamraiha. "Thank you, Yam! Let us just hope, I won't need it anytime soon." His light chuckle filled the room, amber eyes sparkling with their natural gleam as they locked onto her blue ones.

"I'm very sorry, I couldn't do any better than this." She said, averting her gaze as she looked down on her hands resting in her lap.

"It's not your fault." Said Lamia, before Sinbad had the chance to retort, denying all the self-blame Yamraiha burdened herself with. "I should've been there protecting my king, don't blame yourself."

Cyan eyes shot up to meet unusually soft red ones. "But --

"No please, Yam. You have found a way to suppress the curse -- even if it is just for a limited amount of time -- when I am unable to even touch the mark without causing my king unnecessary pain."

The blue haired mage watched her intently, big ocean eyes slightly trembling as she realized a magi, a sorceress of creation, had just admitted her inferiority to a simple magician as herself. "Lady Arwa, don't --

"I am very grateful, you've admitted your failure in protecting Sindria's King." Came Ja'far's harsh remark as he pushed his back off the wall he was leaning on. "But I wonder, how come this curse mark inflicted upon our king by one of your _former_ allies, reacts to the touch of a magi, making it even worse?" He hissed with hard, narrowed eyes.

Sinbad cast his most trusted advisor a warning glance, which the ex-assassin crudely ignored. He took a few steps forward until he stood face to face with Lamia, whose height exceeded his by a few inches.

Looking arrogantly down upon him, Lamia cleared her throat before she replied. "You are a very intelligent man, Grand Vizier of Sindria, and I do believe your sharp skills of perception have not waned since you retired from the profession of assassin. So tell me, why then do you ask what has already been obvious to you?"

A look of slight horror crossed Ja'far's pale complexion. "So you have fallen into Depravity?"

"Entirely and utterly." Lamia said with a casual shrug of her shoulders, leaving everybody present in mild shock. "But it has been so long since I have fallen, and I'm trying very hard making up for my sins."

Shocked, the white haired general turned to face his king, but Sinbad's cold stare made him falter.

"That's enough, Ja'far. Do you really think I would've named her Sindria's magi if I thought she could pose a threat to me or my country?" He spoke with cruel accusation. "It might be true, she has fallen into Depravity, which renders her unable healing the curse which has befallen me, but I do trust her as much as every single one of you."

Sharp golden eyes traveled from Ja'far to Yam, Masrur and Spatos, who all nodded their heads in submission to their king. "I have noticed that some of you still haven't acknowledged Arwa as your equal, yet I bid you to do so." Sinbad added as he rose from his seat. "We can only beat the Organization if we keep continuing sticking together, even if it means welcoming a new member into our circle, whose past doesn't match our ideals. But then again, if you reflect upon your own past -- Ja'far, Masrur -- don't you think you would have to face a lot of buried demons yourselves?"

An almost unnoticeable smile formed on Lamia's dark-purple painted lips at seeing the look of utmost confusion washing across Ja'far's face. Masrur seemed to be left rather unfazed by his king's words, but the glint in his reddish eyes betrayed his calmness, for these were harsh words for subjects, whose loyalty to Sinbad had never wavered.

"What's with that look, Ja'far?" Sinbad sighed rather exhausted, flexing his muscles. "This was only a reminder, not a death sentence." He chuckled, wholeheartedly. "Anyway, you are dismissed and free to do what ever you want. I probably should get some rest and tell the kids what I have in mind for them in the morning."

"My king, please wait. Can I please talk to you in private before you retreat?" Lamia asked politely, bowing her head in acknowledgment for the time she knew, he would grant her.

"Of course."

He motioned his four generals to leave with a mere wave of his hand, waiting until all of them had left the room until he turned to Lamia. "What's the matter?"

"I just wanted to thank you for defending me, my king." She spoke, bowing her head slightly.

Sinbad blinked his enticing eyes once, twice in confusion before he burst out into laughter. "Humility doesn't suit you, Arwa. I know this is what you've expected of me." He said, approaching her in regal strides, placing a finger underneath her chin, making her look at him. "I was thinking about what you've told me a few nights ago, and I came to the conclusion that you were right. There is no reason in distrusting you. And I came to realize that some of my generals were treating you with disrespect you don't deserve. But I believe, the matter is finally settled."

He was so close, too close for comfort, that she wanted so seize the inebriant taste of his sinful lips, already leaning into him, but he had other plans. Sinbad's large hands gripped her small waist, heaving her up and slamming her back against the next wall he could find.

"Gods, you're driving me insane." He breathed into her ear as he buried his face in her jasmine-scented locks, all the while fumbling with his garments in order to free his growing manhood, as she wrapped her slender legs around his hips, steadying herself.

However a sharp knock on the door left both lovers disenchanted, letting go off each other in swift sobriety.

"Princess Kougyoku is requesting an audience with you, my lord." A royal guard said humbly, bowing deeply, only to reveal the petite princess standing behind him.

Exchanging fleeting glances with his magi, Sinbad flashed one of his dazzling smiles at his subordinate.

"Please, send her in."

 


End file.
